To Be Doted On
by joemoe93
Summary: A pseudo-rewrite of HBP purely for shipping's sake. Maybe Draco isn't as bad as he seems; maybe Harry's more obsessed than he wants to admit. Smut ahoy.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The autumn after Harry's 16th birthday saw him entering the sixth year of his magical education. As it had for the four years before it, the end of the summer meant a return to Hogwarts, a return to friends, enemies, and home. But this year felt different to Harry–it felt bigger, somehow, darker and heavier. But beneath that oppressive cloak Harry sensed a current of change, faster and wilder than ever before.

The journey to Hogwarts was itself tumultuous, especially for Harry's face. Harry wondered if he might end up with a nose like Dumbledore's, a crooked reminder of a past that would one day be far away. But for the time, it marked the beginning of Harry's nascent interest in one Draco Malfoy. Harry would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the look of shock on Malfoy's face when he walked into the Great Hall, nose unbroken. But there was something behind the surprise and anger, something that would one day prove itself even more dangerous.

Draco Malfoy was curious.

Harry was restless. His mind was wandering and his legs ached to follow. He knew he'd never get to sleep this way. There was one thing that always seemed to help him, though. Quietly, so as not to disturb his dorm mates, Harry got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and after pocketing the Invisibility Cloak and his wand, he headed for the door.

The Fat Lady quietly complained as Harry swung the portrait out but dozed off again immediately. Feeling bold, Harry left the Cloak in his pocket and struck out in a random direction. Even after all these years, there were still unexplored corners of the castle for Harry to see. Feeling the comfortably familiar passageways beneath his feet was soothing to him, but so was finding a new corridor or a previously ignored portrait on the wall.

Harry began to relax as his body fell into the rhythms of Hogwarts. Even though it had been his home from the moment he stepped foot onto castle grounds when he was 11, it still took a few days for him to get used to the place again. He thought about that day just over five years ago. He had met Draco Malfoy for the second time.

"Well, well." A familiar voice rang out from behind Harry, startling him out of his reverie.

"Think of the devil and he shall appear," Harry muttered without thinking, spinning to face Malfoy.

"What's that, Potter? You were just thinking about me? How sweet." Malfoy sneered into the last sentence, an expression of bitterness and superiority.

Harry said nothing.

"Well, Potter, it just so happens that curfew started about an hour ago. It also happens that you are out of your dormitory. And do you know what? It _also_ happens that Dumbledore made me a Prefect."

"Yeah, and I suppose your parents love you now, just because of that."

Malfoy's face twisted into anger. He walked up to Harry and pointed a single finger in his face. "Shut up, Potter. You know nothing about my parents."

"Likewise, Malfoy. But that never stopped you talking about them, did it?"

Malfoy hesitated for a split second; something flickered in his gaze. "The difference is that I just enjoy seeing you in pain. You're far too noble for the reverse to be true."

"Maybe you're right," Harry whispered. In a single motion, he pulled out his wand, brought it up to Malfoy's face, clenched his own eyes shut and whispered, "Lumos maxima!"

"Agh!" Malfoy threw a hand over his eyes, temporarily blinded by the bright light. When he dropped the arm, Harry was gone.

Gone, but he had stayed long enough to see Malfoy's lingering gaze that seemed to be more than a search for revenge.


	2. Chapter 1

"Look, Harry, we know Malfoy's got a bad record and all, but don't you think that you've gotten a bit, well... obsessed?"

"I am _not_ obsessed with Malfoy," said Harry hotly. "I just have this gut feeling that he's planning something bad. It's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't get away with whatever he's plotting."

"Harry," said Hermione hesitantly, "You haven't even got proof that he's a Death Eater. And I'm sure Dumbledore's keeping an eye on things. If he really thought that Malfoy was a threat, don't you think he'd tell you?"

"I don't know," Harry said bitterly. "It seems like there's a lot he's kept from me before. Besides, he's focusing on the Horcruxes. Malfoy could be flying under his radar."

"Flying under his_ what?_" Ron asked with a bemused expression.

"Nevermind. It's a Muggle expression. What I mean is that Malfoy could be slipping past Dumbledore's gaze because he's concentrating on other things."

"Well, I guess... Still, it might do you some good to forget about Malfoy for a bit," said Ron.

"How can I forget about him when this very minute he could be plotting against Dumbledore, or me, or Hogwarts? I _know_ he's a Death Eater. I know it. I just need the proof." Harry was starting to get flushed from the his vehement arguing.

"Harry... please, Harry. Leave Malfoy alone for a while. C'mon. D'you want to play Wizard's Chess or something?" pleaded Ron.

"Ron's right," said Hermione. "Let's just relax tonight. I'll watch if you two want to play chess." She sat forward from her position next to Ron on the couch and gave Harry a beseeching look.

"Don't you see?" exclaimed Harry. "I can't just relax! I can't! I just–I feel like screaming! Sitting here and pretending everything's okay when it isn't. I can't stand it!"

Rising, Harry strode swiftly towards the Common Room door, ignoring Hermione and Ron's calls. As he stormed out past the Fat Lady, Harry didn't bother to think about where he was going. He was just walking. Getting away from the illusions of normality that everyone tried to maintain. _Can't they see there's a war going on? And they expect me to ignore Malfoy, just like that._ Worse, no one seemed to sympathize with Harry. They were all content with the illusion of peace. It would have been nice to have just one person who agreed with him.

Harry looked up and saw that he had ended up on the second floor, near the girl's bathroom. Maybe he'd go and visit Moaning Myrtle. He had promised to visit her several times, after all... Glancing around to make sure no one saw him, Harry pushed open the door. He opened his mouth to call out to Myrtle when he heard someone breathing heavily.

Peering around the corner, he saw someone standing hunched over at a sink. The person appeared to be talking to himself between sobs as Myrtle encouraged him to let it out. But—there was something striking about the figure. It had bleach-blond hair. Harry looked into the mirror above the sink.

"Malfoy!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand.

Malfoy looked up into the mirror, shocked; with one fluid motion, he drew his wand and spun around to train it on Harry. "Potter!" he spat. Hastily, he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"This isn't your castle, Potter," said Malfoy with a grimace. "I'm a Prefect, in case you've forgotten since our last meeting. I have every right to be in here. What are _you_ doing in here?"

Myrtle interjected. "I'm sure Harry's come to see me—haven't you, Harry? I was just talking to Draco here about–"

"Shut up, Myrtle!" shouted Malfoy.

"What, afraid she's going to reveal all your plots, Malfoy? Have you been sharing your twisted ideas with her? Dumbledore may not suspect you, Malfoy, but I know what you are: a Death Eater."

"Potter," snarled Malfoy, "if you were any dumber, they'd give you an award for Most Massive Stupidity Ever."

"Come off it, Malfoy. You're not fooling anyone."

"You are such—such a _child_, Potter! You are in way over your head, so why don't you sit down while the adults take care of things?"

Suddenly, Harry's rage, built up over days and days of pretense and tension, flashed white-hot.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Stupefy!"_

Harry and Malfoy both dove away from each others' spells. Rolling to his feet first, Malfoy shot off another spell before saying, "You may want to grow up fast, though, Potter, because Dumbledore isn't going to be around to take care of things for you forever."

"_Impedimenta!"_

"Admitting to trying to kill Dumbledore at last, Malfoy?"

"_Petrificus totalus! _Yes, that's what I was getting at, Potter."

Momentarily distracted by Malfoy's forthrightness, Harry's _reducto_ sped off at completely the wrong angle. It hit the sink with an explosion of flying porcelain, and Harry's world went black.

"Wakey, wakey, Potter."

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He gazed with blurred vision at the ceiling for a few moments before looking around for his glasses. Putting them on, he sat up and looked for the source of the voice. He saw Malfoy sitting against the opposite wall with an amused smirk on his face, holding his wand in a way that suggested that, although he wasn't pointing it at Harry at the moment, he was very prepared to.

"What... nnng..." Harry mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Although some of us learned to control our spells years ago, it seems you are still working on that, Potter. That Reductor Curse of yours hit a sink," Malfoy gestured at the sink, "and a fairly large chunk of it smacked you in the head. I wanted to shake its hand."

Harry looked around, spying the guilty piece of white porcelain. "Where's my wand?"

Malfoy merely smirked.

"All right, then. What do you want, Malfoy? Why are you still here?"

Malfoy's grin turned into a defensive snarl. "A good deed never goes unpunished, right, Potter?" he said acidly. "But why were _you_ here in the first place? We both know you weren't visiting that wretched girl. I'd have killed her by now if she weren't already dead."

"I'm not going to sit here and answer your questions, Malfoy. You're the last person I want to be talking to."

"Oh, trouble in paradise? Get into a little disagreement with the lovebirds? The only reason you wouldn't be talking to _them_ is if you were fighting."

"Shut up. It's none of your fucking business."

"Language, Potter. But I can see I've hit a nerve. So what were you fighting about?"

Harry just glared at Malfoy for a moment before mumbling, "You, actually..."

"What's that? I could've sworn I heard you say you were fighting about _me_."

"Um, yeah." Harry's cheeks began to flush. "Ron and Hermione think that... well, anyways, they don't agree with me. That you're working for Voldemort."

Malfoy flinched at the name. "I never thought I'd see the day when I agreed with Granger and the Weasel, but perhaps you should listen to them more often."

"Are you saying you're not working for him?" Harry asked.

"None of your concern."

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Look at me. So fucking desperate that I'm talking to _Malfoy_ of all people. I'd be better off trying to hold a conversation with the third floor staircase. At least it wouldn't constantly insult me."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "You think _you've_ got it bad; look at me! I'm talking to Harry bloody Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Be Doted On. Talking to a House Elf would be an improvement. At least the elf would be closer to my social ranking."

"Poor baby Malfoy. What, Crabbe and Goyle get a little too boring to talk to? I suppose I'd get bored too, always hanging around two people with the collective intelligence of a brick wall."

"Actually, Potter, for your information, they don't seem to have much sympathy... That is... Nevermind. Why am I even trying to explain myself to you? You wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't understand what?" said Harry cautiously. Something seemed to be shifting between them, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"D'you—Do you realize what he's going to do? What he's threatening to do? The Dark Lord, that is. He's going to... to kill my father." Malfoy slumped back against the wall.

"Right, I definitely wouldn't understand anything like that," Harry replied caustically. "I've never had to save people from Voldemort or watch them be killed in front of me. You sit there complaining about what he's _threatening_ to do to your father. My dad's been dead for fifteen years. Because of _him_."

"You don't understand. He—the Dark Lord—says he will spare–" Malfoy cut off sharply. "This conversation is not happening. You just don't understand."

"I'm so sick of people telling me that! Like hell I wouldn't understand. Nearly everyone I know, or used to know, is dead because of Voldemort, or has a father, or a sister, or a child, dead because of him. I know about death, and I'm tired of it. This war is only going to bring more."

Standing, Malfoy glanced at Harry before walking towards the door. "You know, Harry, in one thing, we're alike." He paused at the door and glanced back once more. "We're alone, despite our friends. Or minions, as the case may be." The bathroom door swung shut with a soft thud behind him.

Harry just sat for a moment, thinking about what Malfoy had said, before he realized he never got his wand back. He stood up to run after him, but something caught his eye. There, on the ground underneath his robes, lay his wand. It must have been simply covered up before. Harry stared at the door for a long while before starting back for the Gryffindor tower.


	3. Chapter 2

Mumbling the password to the Fat Lady, Harry stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room quietly, hoping that he could get to the dormitories without anyone noticing him. He was filled with turmoil—over the war, over the fight, and especially over Malfoy. He also felt a little ashamed, thinking about the argument with Ron and Hermione earlier. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was just a little obsessed... But no. That wasn't possible. It was Draco bloody Malfoy! His arch-nemesis and pompous brat to boot. Anyways, he probably shouldn't have stormed off.

Harry must have run out of luck, however, as Hermione spotted him immediately from her customary reading chair by the fire.

"Harry!" She beckoned him over.

Sighing, Harry headed over to her. "Er, Hermione... about earlier..."

"Oh, Harry. Don't worry about it. We know you're stressed. Perhaps it was going a bit far to suggest an... obsession. It's just... Ron and I wish you'd relax every once in a while. You're always so tense."

"I know, I know. I just... can't help the feeling that I'm wasting time by relaxing. And I'm sorry for storming off."

Hermione simply gave him a hug. "Well, I was just waiting for you to get back. I'm off to bed. Good night, Harry."

"'Night, Hermione."

As Harry headed to his own bed, he wondered at the amazing set of friends he had. He changed into his pyjamas and climbed into his four-poster, and was pulling the curtains when he heard, "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Ron."

Draco stood outside the Slytherin Common Room entrance. His mind was replaying the earlier events, focusing on the way the sink had exploded, how Potter had crumpled so quickly to the ground. It was almost scary, the way his head had snapped back...

If Draco was one to do such silly things as shake his head to clear his thoughts, he would have done it. However, being a Malfoy, he merely disciplined his mind into order. It would not do to be sympathetic over Potter.

Still, he had stayed to make sure Potter had been all right. Though he wasn't sure what had possessed him in making that departing comment. Draco never really thought of himself alone, although that's exactly what he was. It was simply his natural state of being.

The door began to open and Draco strode forward to make it seem that he was just approaching. Pansy Parkinson leapt out and attached herself around Draco's neck.

"Draco! Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you..."

Draco's thoughts wandered back to the bathroom.

The next morning was a dark and stormy night Saturday, dawning early and grey over the drizzly castle grounds. Harry slept in, exhausted by, he supposed, his constant tension. When he woke up, he had the distinct impression that he had been dreaming. He lay there for a while, trying to remember, to no avail. He got up to find that Ron had left him a hastily scribbled note saying that he and Hermione had gone down to see Hagrid. That left Harry feeling slightly dissatisfied. They hadn't even bothered to wake him to see if he'd wanted to go too.

And there was absolutely nothing to do. Well, there was homework. But other than that, there was nothing to do. Perhaps he'd go down to the Common Room and see if anyone was up for a game of Exploding Snaps or Wizard's Chess.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, the Gryffindor Common Room was completely deserted. Wondering where everyone could have gotten to, Harry sat down in a chair by the fireplace to think. He could always use the Marauder's Map to find a classmate… or Malfoy. Harry was always up for a good spying-on-Malfoy session. Harry ran back up the staircase to the dormitory, hastily threw on his robes, put his Invisibility Cloak in a pocket, and took out the Map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The ink bloomed across the faded, yellow parchment, outlining Hogwarts in all her majesty and populating the corridors with students. Many of them were in the Great Hall—breakfast time. Staring intently, Harry searched for "Draco Malfoy." He wasn't in the Great Hall with the other students, nor was he in the Slytherin rooms in the dungeons. Finally, Harry located him on the second floor. But… wasn't that…? Yes. He was in Myrtle's bathroom again. _Strange, that he would go back there so soon after our battle_, Harry thought.

A few minutes later, Harry stood outside the door to the bathroom. Glancing around to make sure no one was in the hallway, he slipped underneath the Cloak. He checked the Map to make sure Malfoy was still in the bathroom, whispered, "Mischief managed," and reached for the door–only to jump back as it started to swing open. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he pressed into the wall.

Malfoy swept out of the girl's bathroom in a manner that suggested he was either taking lessons from Snape or feeling particularly bitter about life this morning. Without so much as a glance behind him, he started off down the hall. Harry waited until he was nearly to the nearest intersection before starting after him.

Though Malfoy seemingly strode with purpose, he appeared to have no specific destination in mind. Several times he passed through the same intersection of hallways, going a different direction as before. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind and chose a direction. After a couple of minutes it was clear that he was headed to the Astronomy Tower.

When Draco entered the base of the tower, Harry waited near the door for a few minutes, knowing that the large, echoey staircase would give away his pursuit. He opened the door slowly, listening for steps. It seemed Draco had either reached the top or was far enough ahead that the sound was muffled.

As he climbed, Harry's breaths seemed to ring in his ears. _What are you doing, Harry? Following Malfoy around the castle like an enamored fool or a stalker? Maybe Ron and Hermione were right about this being an obsession..._

He didn't have much time to linger on these thoughts. About a fifth of the way from the top of the tower, there was a balcony that circled the outer rim of the structure. It was a popular spot for introspection as well as romance–the balcony lent a wonderful view of Hogwarts, but at the same time the isolation was great for those who wanted silence or a place to get away. Harry had a gut feeling that Malfoy was on the ledge.

Harry peered out from the doorway. Slowly, he crept around the tower until he was nearly opposite the doorway. He saw Malfoy staring out over the grounds, framed against the turbulent grey sky, which had temporarily stopped raining but continued to threaten inclement weather. He was silent and the only motion besides the occasional burst of wind flipping his hair was his shoulders rising and falling rhythmically.

He remained motionless for such a long time that Harry began to wonder if he was ever going to move. Just as he was ready to give up and go back to the Common Room, Malfoy spoke.

"It's an odd sort of weather this morning. It's quiet now, pretending it wasn't a howling tempest but an hour ago. Indecisive. Will it rain or will it storm?"

Harry stopped himself before his sharp intake of breath became a proper gasp. Malfoy had to know he was there. But that wasn't the confusing part. What had that little monologue meant?

Malfoy continued. "Although perhaps not as odd as following someone around under an Invisibility Cloak. Wearing red trainers, no less."

He turned around. "Don't you think so, Potter?"

Harry could think of no response, so he opted for a new tactic. Forthrightness. He removed the Cloak and quickly stuffed it into a pocket.

"Merlin knows I would find better things to do with my time if I had a cloak like that one." Malfoy looked straight at Harry, but there was no trace of his usual smirk.

"Look, Malfoy. What'd you mean, yesterday in the bathroom? About us both being alone."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No, actually, it isn't."

The smirk seemed to have found its way back onto Malfoy's face. "Hm. I take it that means you didn't talk to Granger about the, em... incident."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The smirk again. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Fuck you. Why did you even lead me up here if you just wanted to be a petty little prick?"

"Tsk tsk, Harry. We really must learn to watch our mouths, mustn't we?" Malfoy, stepping forward, glanced at Harry's lips with a look on his face that was novel to the latter boy.

Harry ignored this and took an angry stride towards Malfoy. "You didn't answer my fucking question. What the fuck are you doing?"

The wind started to pick up. Malfoy took a step in Harry's direction, until they were face-to-face. "Looks like it's going to storm," he breathed.

Harry felt like he was in uncharted territory, and he had no idea why. He licked his lips and suddenly became bizarrely aware of Malfoy's, less than a foot away, still curved in a smirk. He felt the weight of Malfoy's gaze and flushed, wondering what he must look like, looking at Malfoy's lips and licking his own.

Malfoy started to lean in slowly, head bent down slightly to Harry's level. Harry barely had time to register his shock before Malfoy missed his lips and paused briefly by his ear.

"See you around, Harry."

Lightning flashed brilliantly, illuminating the sky; just like that, Malfoy was gone.


	4. Chapter 3

Over the next week, the weather continued to grow darker and the rain never let up for more than a couple hours. The ground was saturated with water, turning everything into a muddy mess. Inevitably, there was a Quidditch match set for that Saturday. Inevitably, it was between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

That Saturday morning continued the pattern of dark, windy, rainy weather. Harry had gone to bed desperately hoping for a break in the weather, but no such luck. He woke up early, like he always did on the morning of a match.

He snuck out of the dormitory and headed for the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. He hoped a bath might help him relax for the match and it was too early for breakfast, anyways. He muttered the password and slipped inside. Before long, the massive tub was filled with hot water and bubbles. Harry plunged in, relishing the warmth and the absence of the sounds of the storm outside underneath the bubbles for as long as he could before surfacing.

He was floating on his back in a patch of particularly buoyant bubbles when he heard the door scrape open. He just had time to get his feet on the floor of the tub when he saw the figure enter. He started wading towards the rim of the tub, trying to remember where he had put his glasses.

"Em, hello?" he said.

"_Potter?_" came the reply.

"Malfoy?" His groping hand found his glasses sitting on the tile. The room came into focus and (inevitably) there was Malfoy standing near the door with an expression halfway between shock and disgust.

"What on earth are you doing in my bathroom? You're not even a Prefect!"

"This is not your bathroom, Malfoy. Maybe you can recall that you don't actually own everything? Besides, I'm Captain of the Quidditch team. I'm allowed to use this bathroom."

"Sodding... Potter, I come here before every match! You cannot just waltz in here and break tradition."

This time, it was Harry's turn to smirk. The expression felt odd on his face.

"What?" Malfoy demanded.

"Language, Malfoy," Harry taunted. "Anyways, you can bugger off now. I'm using the bathroom this morning."

Malfoy glared at Harry. Then, without warning, he began stripping. "You know what, Potter, I think I shall continue my tradition all the same. You're welcome to leave."

Harry's ears began to get warm as he realized Malfoy wasn't going to stop removing his clothes–or making eye contact with him while he did. He turned around and said, "No, I think I'll just try and enjoy my bath."

Harry heard, "Be my guest," and caught a brief glimpse of a pale form leaping over his head before Malfoy hit the water and a wave nearly swept Harry's glasses from his face. Sputtering, he put his glasses back on the tile. "Bloody hell! Watch what you're doing."

He turned back to the pool and discovered Malfoy standing right in front of him. "Language, Potter," he whispered.

Harry's mind seemed to go fuzzy. He kicked off from the wall and dove underneath the surface of the water. He swam until his fingers met the far wall of the tub and sat submerged until his breath threatened to explode from his chest. He took a deep gasp as his face hit the air.

"That was impressive. I bet holding your breath like that comes in handy during other activities, too." Malfoy's voice floated across the water, ripe with innuendo.

"What the f–... what's that supposed to mean?"

Malfoy's indistinct form rose from the water. "Well, Potter, I'd show you, but I have a Quidditch match to attend, now that you've ruined my routine. Although, if you're really desperate to know, just ask the Mudblood for some professional tips."

Harry's rage flashed white-hot. "ACCIO WAND!" he bellowed. His wand soared across the room and into his open hand.

"Petrificus totalus!" Malfoy's suddenly rigid form toppled to the ground.

Harry clambered out of the tub and padded over to the prostrate body. Peering down, he raised a foot near Malfoy's face.

"A little payback for the beginning of the year? I wonder how well you play with a broken nose."

Harry hesitated. The Body Bind left Malfoy in control of his grey eyes, and Harry began to wish it didn't when he saw them burning with rage. Then, however, they broke away from eye contact–_perhaps it wasn't rage_, Harry thought–and began to travel down Harry's body. Slowly. Harry's sudden, acute self-consciousness broke through his anger and he became aware that he was both naked and standing directly above Malfoy.

He set his foot down. "No. I'll just let you sit here and wait for the jinx to wear off. See you at the match–or not."

Harry toweled off and got dressed quickly. Leaving Malfoy where he was, lying naked on the tile, he headed for the Quidditch pitch. He briefly considered at least throwing a towel over Malfoy for modesty's sake, should someone come into the bathroom and discover him, but decided against it. Malfoy deserved all the humiliation he got from this incident.

Breakfast was about to end as Harry passed by the Great Hall. Students were already starting to head to the pitch, raincoats donned and umbrellas in hand. Harry wished he had brought his along; although he would get soaked in the first thirty seconds of the game anyways, he could have at least been dry beforehand.

Harry got to the dressing room to discover he was one of the last to arrive. It only took a few minutes for the whole team to be assembled, dressed and ready for the match.

"Well, Harry?" said Katie Bell. "Any words of wisdom before we smash the Slytherins to pieces?"

Harry smiled at her enthusiasm. "Just as we practiced."

The time came for the match to begin and both teams filed out onto the field. Harry looked to see who they had chosen to replace Malfoy. It was someone with hair as blonde as his–no.

"How the hell did he get around that curse?" Harry muttered to himself. No use wondering about it now. Malfoy was here.

The two Captains shook hands, the whistle was blown, and fourteen players rose as one. The match had begun.

Harry took his customary position circling the pitch above the field of play, keeping his attention focused on any flash of metal. The Snitch was always especially difficult to spot in weather like this.

"That was a nasty trick you pulled, Potter."

"Malfoy, for the last time. Sod off. There's a match being played, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, how kind of you to let me know," Malfoy spat. "Whatever would I do without the grace and magnanimity of Harry Ego-too-big-for-his-pants Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes in frustration and anger. He was taking a tense breath to retaliate when he heard a humming noise through the sound of the whipping winds. Spinning towards the source of the noise, he saw a flare of gold–the Snitch.

He wasted no time in urging his Firebolt to speed after the Snitch. A shout from behind him told him that Malfoy had realized what was happening. A quick glance at the scoreboard told him that Gryffindor was in the lead, barely. He needed to catch the Snitch if he wanted to win. And he always wanted to win.

Harry was gaining on his target. The Snitch, capricious as ever, suddenly reversed direction and flew over Harry's head before he could lift a hand to catch it. He did a sharp, hard turn and began flying back towards the Snitch, leading him on a path straight at Malfoy.

The golden ball executed another dramatic turn, darting off to Harry's right. He pulled another sharp turn that sent him skidding into the other Seeker. Harry was braced for the impact, but Malfoy wasn't. His hands lost their grip on the wet, slippery wood and he fell over the side of his broom. He managed to keep a single hand on the broom, but his legs dangled hundreds of feet above the ground.

Harry, before utterly intent on catching the Snitch, was suddenly torn. He could probably still catch the Snitch, despite the slowing down. But what if Malfoy fell? Harry didn't want that on his conscience.

He reversed directions once again. Coming up level to Malfoy, he shouted, "Climb on my broom!"

Malfoy, barely retaining a grip on the wind-tossed broom, didn't look as though he was in a position to argue, but he shouted back, "What about mine?"

"Don't worry!" was all Harry said.

Malfoy tentatively wrapped his legs around the Firebolt, then dropped his weight onto the broom so that he and Harry were face-to-face. Harry grabbed him around the waist to make sure he would slip off, then with a quick tug, pulled his wand from his sleeve. He had always kept it with him during matches since the Dementor incidents of Third Year.

"Accio Broom!" Malfoy's broom, which had begun to fly off in the wind, came zooming back. Malfoy caught it in his hands. As he climbed back onto his own broom, he said tersely, "Thanks."

But Harry was already zooming away, having just seen the Snitch in the direction Malfoy's broom had been drifting. After the adrenaline rush of–catching Malfoy; definitely catching Malfoy, and not being so close to him, holding his waist, Harry told himself–it was an easy snag.

Gryffindor had defeated Slytherin once more.


	5. Chapter 4

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry came out of his reverie. It was Monday morning and the weather had finally broken. He looked up to see Luna standing in front of him on the other side of the Gryffindor meal table.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. Who were you thinking about?"

Harry blinked. "Um... What makes you think I was thinking about someone?"

"I can see it in your eyes. But they're gone now. Anyways, I wanted to congratulate you for Saturday. Both for winning the match and saving Draco's life."

Harry nearly choked on his orange juice. "How–how do you know about that? We were way above the rest of the game and it was almost too rainy to see anything."

"Omnioculars. I find it much more entertaining to watch your face as you react to the game than to watch the game for myself."

Harry felt a blush starting to creep across his face. "You watch me instead of the match?"

"Oh, yes. I always know which team has the Quaffle by the look on your face." Luna smiled. "Well, I won't bother you any more. See you later, Harry."

"Bye, Luna."

As he watched Luna walk back to the Ravenclaw table, Harry felt something small bump into the back of his head. Harry turned around to find a folded paper aeroplane hovering there. He grabbed it and it unfolded in his hands to reveal a small note written in an elegant cursive script.

Talking to your girlfriend, Harry?

Harry looked around the Great Hall, but there were too many students to see properly. He couldn't find anyone who looked like they would have sent him the note. He thought for a second, then pulled a stubby pencil from his pocket. He wrote

Luna is not my girlfriend. And it's none of your business.

When he finished, he half expected the plane to fold back up and fly back to its sender. But nothing happened. Acting on a whim, Harry took his wand and simply tapped the paper once. It folded up promptly and zoomed off under the table, weaving in and out of the crowd until Harry lost track of it. There was no way to tell where it was headed.

Soon enough, Harry felt the plane bump into the back of his head once again.

If it's none of my business, then why did you tell me? Besides, I wasn't referring to her. I was referring to that goblet of orange juice. You two seem so happy together.

Haha, very funny. You're so clever. If I didn't know Hermione's handwriting so well from copying her notes, I'd suspect that you were her.

This time, Harry strained to keep track of the plane. But it just resorted to even more drastic measures to make sure he couldn't trace it. It flew out the high windows that were normally reserved for owls and disappeared. Harry was still watching the ceiling for a glimpse of the plane when he felt the tip of it against his head.

You're lucky to have her, you know. Not all of us have unfortunately brilliant friends to help us cheat on our exams.

Hermione doesn't help us cheat! She's too opposed to cheating for that. She just helps us with our essays sometimes. And why are you bothering me? Who are you?

This time when Harry tapped it with his wand, the plane folded up, and with a sound like a miniature Disapparation, vanished from the spot. Less than a minute later, it reappeared in front of him. When it unfolded, it was entirely blank except for a small drawing. It was a dragon.

_Draco, wake up! _Draco thought furiously to himself. _What do you think you're doing, messing with Ha– with Potter like that? And the dragon?_

Draco took a deep breath and reined in his emotions. It would be okay. Potter was so dense anyways that he probably wouldn't suspect a thing.

Where Harry had felt the new tension between himself and Draco but hadn't been able to recognize it, Draco knew what it was immediately. And it scared him. He couldn't think of anything worse that could happen between them, except maybe if Harry started using clever retorts. The day Potter said something honestly insulting to Draco was the day Draco began taking all his meals in bed.

"Come on, Draco," Blaise said, bringing his attention back to the Great Hall. "We've got Potions in a couple minutes."

Draco waved a hand, signaling he'd be right along. There was one more thing he needed to do first...

Harry was still studying the drawing on the way to Potions with Slytherin when he heard an all too familiar voice from behind him.

"Oi, Potter! What are you reading? I saw you sending that paper aeroplane during breakfast. Is it a love letter from your boyfriend?"

Harry hastily hid the paper in his pocket. "It's really none of your business, Malfoy, so you can shove off."

"I can see I hit a nerve. Oh, haven't you come out yet?" Malfoy's leering voice echoed strangely off the walls of the abandoned corridor.

Harry stopped in his tracks and spun to face the other boy. "I'm–not–gay."

Malfoy simply raised a single, thin eyebrow and sauntered past Harry. His soundless reaction served to make Harry rethink how defensive he had sounded.

"Look, I'm not gay, okay? I–I have Ginny."

Malfoy stopped and looked at Harry over his shoulder. "Do you? I heard she was with Thomas now. Or perhaps it was Finnegan. I simply can't recall."

"Well... but... She and I have a, em, an understanding."

The response was a short laugh that still somehow managed to be full to the brim with derision. Once again, Harry's rage got the better of him. Without thinking, he leapt forward and slammed into the Slytherin with the heels of both palms.

Malfoy hit the wall with a thud and stumbled, but didn't fall. His face was utterly shocked before twisting into something scarily like the snarl of a cat.

"I swear on my mother's dowry, Potter, if you _ever_ touch me again, I will take exquisite pleasure in making you wish you had never bought your wand in Diagon Alley and come to Hogwarts." With a final glare, he spun around and strode off towards the dungeons.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, but he didn't have time to ponder. Potions had probably already started. He jogged the rest of the way down to the classroom, but when he arrived, there was something horribly wrong.

"Mr Potter. I'm so glad you deigned to visit us this morning," Snape said as Harry stood in the doorway. "Now sit down or it's detention for a week."

"But, sir..."

"I said immediately, Potter!" Snape somehow looked even more disapproving of Harry's existence as he said this, and Harry didn't dare argue. He sat in the only available seat–next to his favourite blond nemesis.

"As you can see, Potter, I've asked the class to split into pairs of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor. Professor Slughorn couldn't attend this morning and asked me to stand in for him. Today you will be following the instructions on the board–you will not require your books. When you are finished, you will give me a sample and label it as you see fit. Those of you who have done your homework will know what the potion is. Note that you are also expressly forbidden to remove the potion from this classroom. Begin."

Harry sighed, regretting that he couldn't use his copy of the Potions book with the Half-Blood Prince's instructions scrawled in the margins to help him with the potion. He squinted at the list of ingredients, which included moonstones and rose thorns. Beside him, Malfoy had already started to bring the cauldron to a boil.

"Well?" Malfoy said. "Make yourself useful and go get the ingredients."

"Erm, Malfoy... about the hallway..."

"Merlin's beard, Potter! I didn't ask you to blubber at me. Go get the ingredients."

Muttering to himself about rude people, Harry went into the store cupboards and found everything they needed for the potion. He sat back down in his seat and was just ready to fold his arms and let Malfoy do all the work–perhaps he didn't need the Prince's book after all–, when Malfoy said, "Start crushing the moonstones. It needs to be smaller than pebble sized, but not powdered. Think coarse sand."

Harry glared, but Malfoy was too engrossed in bringing the cauldron to the proper temperature to notice. He took out a mortar and pestle and began grinding the moonstones. The process required a lot of physical effort. It was almost therapeutic, if Harry imagined Malfoy's face on the stones as he ground them to bits. He was thankful for his many years of Quidditch practice. It would have been an impossible task without his upper body strength honed from riding a broom so often.

After some time, the moonstones appeared to be the right consistency. Harry paused to look over at the cauldron. Malfoy was currently stirring in Ashwinder eggs, one at a time, concentrating hard to ensure he didn't add too many. "That's probably enough. You can stop grinding now."

Silently, he handed over the ground moonstones. Their fingers brushed together as he passed them over and Harry noted how warm Malfoy's were from the cauldron. They had always seemed like they would be cold, perhaps because they were pale and slim. It seemed Malfoy had forgotten about his threat, as he said nothing.

Malfoy shook the moonstones a bit, then dumped them in all at once. The potion's colour crept from a murky green to a vivid violet. "Almost done..." Malfoy said.

Harry started to ask what it was, but Malfoy's expression was one of such intense concentration, he didn't want to bother him. Besides, Malfoy was sure to upbraid Harry for not knowing which potion it was.

Looking around the class, Harry saw that the other pairs were having more difficulty with the concoction. Many looked confused or slightly helpless as they tried to coax their potions into the right consistency and colour. As he watched, Hermione carefully sprinkled crushed moonstone into the potion until it turned violet, making hers the only other group that had reached that point.

Harry turned back to the board and scanned it until he found the next step. According to the instructions, once the potion was violet and five minutes had passed, a single sprig of mint stirred in would finish the potion. If done correctly, the potion would become a glistening pink.

Harry turned back to the cauldron and found Malfoy regarding him with a cool expression. He held out the mint leaves. "Care to do the honours?"

Harry took the mint. "Which way do I stir it?"

"Clockwise."

Harry dropped the mint into the center of the potion. It slowly sank into the bubbling surface as he took the stirring rod and gave it a couple clockwise stirs. With what seemed a nearly audible "plink," the potion grew a pink circle in the centre which quickly expanded until it reached the walls of the cauldron. It took on a bright sheen.

Harry turned back to Malfoy, who gave him a nod. "I'll clean up if you take a sample and label it," said the Slytherin.

Harry carefully took a ladle and poured some of the potion into a glass vial. He stoppered the container and tied a small tag around the cork. He took out a quill, but hesitated. He still had no idea what the potion was.

"Um, Draco?"

He turned and gave Harry a look that was difficult to read.

"What potion did we make?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's odd expression turned to one of innocent surprise. "You don't know what this is?"

Harry shook his head.

"It's a Love Potion."


	6. Chapter 5

Later that evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. There was a fire going in the fireplace, creating a cozy atmosphere.

"Harry? Haaaarry?"

Harry blinked. He had been deep in thought. "Hm?"

"I said, you seemed to work well with Malfoy in Potions," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"You were the first group. Even I was barely able to finish the potion in time."

Harry shrugged. "Malfoy did most of the work. I really only crushed the moonstones."

"Yes, well, he has always done well in Potions, even without Snape's help. By the way, what did you say to him at the end of class? He gave you a really funny look."

"Oh, I don't remember," Harry said. "I think I asked him what the potion was."

"No, it was before that, but it doesn't really matter. You didn't know what the potion was?"

"No, Hermione, otherwise I wouldn't have asked, would I?" Harry pointed out.

"I suppose not, but it was really quite obvious. Ashwinder eggs and moonstones are two very common ingredients in Love Potions." Hermione sighed. "Will you ever learn to do your homework on time?"

Ron looked up from the essay he was trying not to write."Not as long as we have you, Hermione. And what was that about Harry and the Ferret?"

"Nothing, really, _Ronald_, though you might make more progress on your essay if you actually wrote something instead of doodling in the margins. I was just noting that Harry and Malfoy seemed to work well together in making the Love Potion."

Ron nearly choked, then started to grin wickedly. "Harry and Malfoy made a Love Potion together?"

Hermione smacked him on the arm. "It wasn't like that, Ron. You were there in Potions class when we all made that Love Potion."

"Oh, is that what that was?"

"For god's sake, Ron!"

"Well, Harry didn't know what it was either, did you Harry? Harry?"

But Harry was in his own world again. Something about this conversation was nagging at him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was something he missed...

"Draco? Draco!"

Slowly, Draco's attention came back to the present. He was sitting in Snape's office in the dungeons–despite being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he had preferred to keep his old office.

"You cannot even focus your attention for an entire conversation. It's no wonder your efforts seem to be slipping."

"Mind your own business, Severus. My grades are as good as ever, and I have the other... situation... under control," Draco snapped back.

Snape gave him a cold look. "Draco, while we may have a special personal relationship among professors and students, while we are at Hogwarts, you _will_ address me as 'sir' or 'Professor Snape.'"

"Yes, sir."

"Draco, I understand the enormous pressure you're under, but–"

"No, you don't!" Draco exclaimed. "You have no idea what it's like! My parents–they're my only family. I can't... I can't lose them."

Snape gave him a long, even gaze. "While your young and foolhardy heart may have decided that it alone bears the burden of expectation, rest assured that your situation is not unique."

"What would _you_ know about it? ...sir."

Snape sighed and said, very softly, "More than you could possibly imagine..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione said goodnight and headed up to their beds. Harry, who still had the nagging sensation in the back of his mind that he was overlooking something, didn't feel tired. He went over to the window and looked out. There were clouds drifting past a nearly full moon, which highlighted the small snowflakes that had just begun to fall. The grounds were awash in the pale light of the moon, making them seem hushed and foreign.

Harry climbed into his four-poster bed and drew the curtains, casting a Silencing Charm before resting his wand and his glasses on the nightstand. It was always better to cast the charm and not have to worry than risk hearing your dorm mates' snoring, or worse, wanking, should they also fail to cast the charm.

Looking up into the blackness overhead, Harry saw in his mind's eye the pale, moonlight Hogwarts grounds. _Such a beautiful colour_, he thought. It reminded him of something... Yes, that was it: skin. He could see the smooth skin in his mind, gentle curves and flat expanses. He felt a tightening in his pyjamas as he concentrated more fully on the skin.

He could imagine the sound the skin would make as he ran his palms, roughened from Quidditch, over the smooth surface. He extended an arm and pulled his pyjama pants down. He could almost taste the saltiness on his tongue... He reached down and wrapped a hand around his now stiff manhood.

But whose skin was it?

Slowly, he allowed the image in his mind to contract. His hand began a simple up and down stroke as he saw a flat abdomen; long, slender fingers; the hollow at the base of the neck.

When he saw the face, he didn't question it. He didn't protest.

Up–down–up–down–

He bit his lip as he came onto his stomach, but the name flashed in front of his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized what had been nagging him about the conversation. He hadn't asked Malfoy what the potion was to illicit the odd reaction: he had called him "Draco."

Everything was forgotten by morning.


	7. Chapter 6

Thursday morning came around and it was time for Potions again. No paper airplanes visited him during breakfast and, feeling slightly disappointed, Harry headed down to the dungeons. Once again, he was the last person there, but today Professor Slughorn was back.

"Hello, Harry! Please, take a seat." Slughorn waved his arm at the chairs, as though there were more than one choice.

"I talked to Professor Snape about Monday's class, and I've decided to give the Slytherin-Gryffindor partnering another go. Today you'll be using your books..." Slughorn's voice faded into the background as it filtered into Harry's brain without making much of an impression.

Slowly, Harry walked around to the only empty seat–once again, next to Malfoy. As soon as Slughorn's voiced had dropped off entirely, Malfoy took out his Potions book and flipped to the page for the potion, which was apparently Amortentia–another love potion, but this time, a much stronger one.

"What page?" Harry whispered.

"Honestly, Potter, don't you ever pay attention to the professors? Or arrive on time, for that matter." He paused. "Page 238."

Harry dug out his–or rather, the Half-Blood Prince's–copy of _Advanced Potion Making_.Oddly, the Prince had written nothing on the pages for Amortentia except, "With love comes pain."

Harry was slightly disappointed but scanned the book until he found the list of ingredients. Beside him, Malfoy was tending the cauldron, just as he had done before.

"I'll get the ingredients, then, shall I?" Harry asked. There was no response. Harry sighed and, taking his book with him, retrieved the required materials from the storage closet.

Having collected the ingredients, Harry scanned through the instructions on how to create the potion. It was highly complex–a truly advanced potion making. Harry saw that Malfoy had already completed the first couple steps. Silently, he began preparing for the next.

In silence, the two boys worked together over the cauldron, speaking only when necessary. Harry was careful not to touch his partner, even in handing over the stirring rod; Malfoy's threat still loomed in his mind. But it seemed that, just as before, the Slytherin concentrated too hard on the task at hand to take much notice of the world around him.

Finally, after over an hour of intense focus and painstaking accuracy, the liquid in the cauldron began to glisten with a pearly sheen and the steam curled into spirals as it rose from the surface.

Harry took in a deep breath of the steam and closed his eyes as the intense smell hit him. He could almost taste the treacle tart in his mouth and feel the smooth grain of his Firebolt under his fingers. Once again, the third smell eluded him.

He opened his eyes to find Malfoy studying him silently.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy said, and for once, he had nothing else to say. He raised his hand to get Slughorn's attention.

"My, my. Let's see," Slughorn said as he stood over the cauldron. He inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Yes... Excellent. Quite wonderful, my boys. Harry, you've done it again."

Malfoy's expression darkened dangerously. Quickly, Harry interjected, "It wasn't me, professor. Malfoy did most of the work."

"Oh?" Slughorn turned to regard the other student. "Well, excellent work, Malfoy. You two are free to leave." Slughorn turned and walked off to inspect Hermione's potion, which seemed to be nearly done.

Harry packed his bag and left the classroom. Judging by his stomach, it was just about lunchtime. As he was walking down the stone corridor, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned: it was Malfoy.

"What?" Malfoy said.

"Nothing," Harry replied. There was a silence.

"Can I ask you something?" Malfoy said eventually.

"You just did," Harry pointed out. Then, hesitantly, "... but yes."

"Why didn't you just let Slughorn give you credit for the Amortentia? It's a difficult potion and you did just as much work as I did."

Harry sighed. "Because, Malfoy, I believe in credit where credit is due. Besides, we both know you're the better potion maker."

Malfoy muttered, "Slughorn doesn't seem to get that..."

Harry gave the other boy a small smile. "Maybe if he keeps letting us work together, he'll come to find that out."

The response was another one of Malfoy's signature stares, yet again tinged with an emotion that was difficult to read on his face. He stepped toward Harry, expression unchanging. Harry wanted to ask Malfoy what he was doing, but their proximity made speaking seem almost... crass.

He saw the Slytherin's chest rise. Then, quite suddenly, he walked off without a word.

Harry watched him go, wondering what the hell had just happened. He shrugged and, as his stomach grumbled, walked back up to the Great Hall for lunch. He was just sitting down when Hermione appeared across the table from him. There was silence between them for a couple minutes as they both dug into their meal. Potion crafting was hard work.

Hermione grabbed a goblet of juice before saying, "That was another odd look he gave you today, Harry."

"Who, Draco?" Harry said.

Hermione stared for a moment. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'Who, Draco...'" Harry's voice faded as he realized what he'd done. Then his mind suddenly flashed back to last night. His face started to burn when he remembered what had happened. But more importantly, he remembered his revelation.

"Harry?" Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"Um, nevermind..." Harry cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Hermione, I need to ask you something. Do you know the Latin word for 'dragon'?"

Slowly, as though she realized Harry was trying to make a connection but wasn't sure what it was, Hermione said, "In a simple form, it's 'draconis.'"

Harry let out his breath in a whoosh. Dragon. Draconis. Draco.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermioned asked.

"I'm not really sure, Hermione. I don't think it would make sense if I tried to explain it to you." _Plus, how do you explain to your best friend that you wanked to the image of your arch-nemesis?_ Harry quickly scrubbed the thought from his mind.

"I need to go." Harry stood up and grabbed a couple rolls. He stuffed one into his mouth as he walked quickly back to the dormitories, to the paper with Draco's dragon on it.

When he pulled out the paper, he wasn't sure what he was going to do with it. Finally, he took out a quill.

**So how did you get out of my Full-Body Bind curse?**

The paper vanished at the tap of his wand.

Draco was sitting on his bed when the paper appeared in front of him. He leaned forward and read the messy handwriting underneath his dragon.

_Shit. Shitshitshitshit. He knows! He fucking knows._ Draco cursed his–he wasn't sure what. Stupidity? Lack of subtlety? Interest in Harry? _NO. No. I am not interested in Potter, goddammit._ He thought for a moment.

_Well, maybe a little bit._

_Oh._

_He is rather handsome, though. He has nice eyes._

_Well. Now that we've got that covered, what do we do about this situation?_ Another voiced seemed to pipe up in his mind. _You do realise how utterly moronic it is to get involved with Potter? Especially considering the situation with your parents._

_SHUT UP._

_Just trying to be helpful._

Draco sat in silent thought for some time. Then, a grin blooming across his face, he found a quill and picked up the paper.

_I don't always need a wand to perform magic. Although wands are quite nice sometimes..._

Harry sat and stared at the paper for a long time when it reappeared. His thoughts drifted back to the third scent of Amortentia. _Wands are quite nice sometimes..._


	8. Chapter 7

Friday morning brought howling winds and a blizzard of thick snow. By the afternoon, it had subsided slightly into a heavy snowfall. As dusk began to approach the snow lightened. The wind was nearly gone and in the aftermath of the storm, the grounds were silent but for the _whisk whisk_ of large flakes falling, tapping one another and settling onto the ground. The world had turned white.

Harry liked to take advantage of the weather to have some time alone, which was often hard to come by in the winter months. Telling Ron and Hermione he was going to visit Hedwig, Harry set off for the Owlery.

He walked slowly across the snow-covered earth, not only because the snow was deep and thick but also because he enjoyed the atmosphere. The falling light in addition to the softly falling snow was beautiful to behold.

Inside the Owlery, Harry spent some time holding Hedwig, stroking her gently, and feeding her small treats. Occasionally, he would murmur something–whatever was on his mind–to her. She seemed to like hearing his voice after long periods of being apart.

Outside, lamps sputtered into life as dusk fell. Harry decided it was probably time to go back to the castle. Hedwig seemed to understand him, and she flew off. He set off down the path to the castle, passing from one circle of torchlight to the next.

Harry noticed someone walking down the path towards him. It was hard to make out who it was in the dark, with the snow still falling. He peered ahead as he walked. He judged that they would meet under the next lamp.

When he stepped into the next ring of light, he stopped walking. A second later, the other person also stepped into the light.

"Malfoy?"

"Potter?"

"What... um," Harry checked his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Going to the Owlery," Malfoy said carefully. "And you?"

"I, um, I was just visiting Hedwig." Harry clarified, "My owl."

"Yes, Potter, I'm well aware of who Hedwig is," said Malfoy, taking a step forward.

Harry felt himself doing the same. "Erm. Lovely weather, isn't it?"

Malfoy took another step. Harry hoped this whole "close proximity" thing wasn't becoming a habit... he thought that's what he hoped.

"Um. I feel like it's a shame that the snow covers up sunsets, even though they're both beautiful, I mean, I think they'd be even more beautiful together, don't you think? Especially this kind of snow–"

"Shut up."

Harry shut up. They were standing less than a foot apart now, directly under the lamp shedding a warm, yellow light. Wet flakes drifted from the sky and landed in their hair, on their faces. Harry met Malfoy's eyes and again (briefly, this time) marvelled at how out of his league he was.

Malfoy, his grey eyes focused on Harry's green pair, leaned down slightly, head tilted to the right. This time he didn't miss.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. His hands came up to frame the other boy's face. He felt Malfoy's hands press into the small of his back. He could taste something, almost minty, on his lips.

Malfoy pulled his face back slightly and opened his mouth to speak, but found that Harry's thumb was confining his lips. Harry stared into Malfoy's eyes. They were unreadable. He leaned forward and slipped his hand out of the way.

This kiss was more passionate and less tender than the last. Malfoy's hands exerted more pressure, bringing the boys closer together. Their mouths pressed together with force. Harry could feel himself starting to get hard as his groin rubbed against Malfoy's body.

Suddenly, Malfoy tore away completely. He backed up in a defensive crouch and pressed his hands to his temples. He seemed to ignore Harry totally, eyes focused down. "Fuck. Fuck! I..."

He took a sobbing breath. Then, passingly, he met Harry's eyes before he spun and ran back towards the castle, into the dark.

Harry stood alone in the pool of light. Lightly, his fingers touched his lips. He stared into the night, feeling tears starting to leak from his eyes. He took a long time returning to the Gryffindor tower.


	9. Chapter 8

It was Saturday again, a Hogsmeade visit day. Harry had decided to visit Hagrid before he headed into the village. Hagrid always managed to make him feel better.

Harry trudged through the snow down to Hagrid's cabin, listening to the playful shouts of the younger students as they threw snowballs and forgot their troubles. He smiled wistfully. Oh, to be carefree.

Fang's booming barks greeted him as Harry pounded on Hagrid's door. It swung open to reveal Hagrid peering out. His face split into a huge grin when he saw who it was.

"Harry! I' bin worried 'bout yeh. Though' you mighta forgot about me." Hagrid pulled him in for a (quite literally) crushing hug.

"Cuppa tea, Harry?"

"Sure." Harry sat in a chair that was rather too large for him and stroked Fang's ears while his head rested, drooling, on Harry's leg. Hagrid served him a plate of biscuits that were hard enough that Harry suspected they were the same ones he had been served five years earlier. He smiled again, this time at Hagrid's consistency, and for a while, he, too, forgot his troubles.

"Come visit again soon, Harry!" Hagrid shouted as Harry made his way towards Hogsmeade. He waved back at the half-giant.

A few minutes of walking had him nearing the edge of the magical village. He could see other students as they made their way around the shops and pubs. They all seemed to be as joyful and careless as the younger ones.

As he was walking down the only main street in the village, he saw a familiar blond head near the Three Broomsticks. His mind flashed back to last night's message, and the encounter after.

Malfoy was walking hunched over, as though he didn't want to be recognized, and glanced behind him before quickly ducking into the pub. Odd.

Harry quickened his pace and a minute later, he stepped into the warmth of the popular gathering place. He saw no sign of Malfoy. Peering through the crowd, he did see Ron's red hair over the other heads. He made his way over to the table. As he approached, he caught what seemed to be the tail end of an argument.

"Honestly, Ronald. They're only holding hands," Hermione said, then glanced toward the corner. "...and snogging."

Harry peered into the corner and saw Ginny sitting with Dean Thomas–_so it was Thomas, after all_, Harry thought. He resolved not to look at that particular corner of the room again, although it was clearly agitating Ron.

Hermione sighed. "What if Ginny came in here and saw you and I snogging, Ron? Would you expect her to leave?"

Ron didn't say anything, but his ears started to turn pink.

"Anyways. Hello, Harry. How was Hagrid?"

"Um, good. Did either of you happen to see Malfoy stepping in?"

Hermione and Ron shared a look. "No, Harry."

"I saw him duck in here not a minute ago. I wonder what he's up to..."

Hermione slid an extra mug of butterbeer across the table to Harry. "Well, Harry, it's sure to be a part of his devious plan to get warm. It's wretchedly cold out there, in case you were unaware. I don't know what we'd do without Madam Rosmerta's butterbeer."

Harry wrapped his hands around the warm glass mug and took a long pull. Delicious as always. "Yes, but he looked suspicious. Like he was afraid of being followed."

Just then, Harry felt a hand fall on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Professor Slughorn standing behind him.

"Harry, m'lad! Wonderful to see you here."

"Erm, likewise, professor," Harry said.

"I say," Slughorn paused to burp, "Next Saturday, I'm throwing a small get-together–just for a select few individuals, you see–and I'd be delighted if you would come."

"Of course, Professor Slughorn."

"Hermione, m'dear, of course you're invited as well," Slughorn said happily. "And you can bring someone along, if you'd like."

"I'm sure it'll be a riot," Hermione responded, with a hint of irony too subtle for Slughorn to catch in his slightly inebriated state.

"Excellent. Excellent. Oh, and nice to see you, Wollsby," he said to Ron. "Good day, then."

"Goodbye, professor," said Hermione.

"What's that all about, then?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore told me that Slughorn used to befriend the students he thought would make it big after they graduated. Apparently he makes a lot of connections that way," Harry said.

"Why didn't he invite me, then?" Ron asked angrily.

"Ron..." Hermione started.

"Whatever. I wouldn't want to go to one of his stupid parties anyways."

"Well, I was going to invite you to go with me, but if that's how you feel." Hermione ignored the look on Ron's face. "Perhaps I'll invite Cormac."

_That was a low blow_, Harry thought as Ron's expression immediately changed to one of stony, determined indifference.

"Are we all finished with our butterbeers, then?" Hermione asked, once again ignoring Ron's expression.

"Yeah," said Harry. After taking one last look around for Malfoy, he continued. "We might as well head back up to the castle."

They emerged from the pub behind a pair of students also heading back to the castle. The snow obscured the figures ahead, but the wind whipped bits of their conversation back into Harry's ears.

"Katie, what... don't you think... stupid!... Katie, please..."

Through the snow, they could make out the figures as they appeared to shout back and forth. One of them reached over to the other and attempted to rip something out of her hands.

Suddenly, the girl holding the object began to shriek. She rose in the air gracefully, but her eyes were rolling back and the howl coming from her mouth was unearthly. The other girl was tugging at her legs, trying to bring her back to the ground. Harry and the others ran forward and saw that it was Katie Bell hanging midair.

"What happened?" Harry shouted.

"I don't know, I don't know!" the girl sobbed. "Katie! Katie, please!"

"Harry, go get help!" Hermione said. "I"ll try to get her down!"

Harry took off towards the castle in a sprint. The flying snow made visibility not more than ten yards. Suddenly, a giant figure coalesced among the flakes. Harry ran headlong into the dark shape.

"Whoa, there, Harry. Watch where yeh're goin'."

"Hagrid! Hagrid, please, we need your help! Katie's been cursed or something." Tugging on Hagrid's massive hand, Harry began running back towards the group. One second he was pulling Hagrid along and the next his feet stopped making contact with the frozen earth. Harry realized Hagrid had picked him up and was now running at a terrifying pace towards Hogsmeade.

"There!" Harry shouted.

Katie laid in a sprawl on the snow. Her friend was sobbing uncontrollably next to her. Hagrid set Harry down and gently lifted Katie up and cradled her in his arms. "What done this to 'er?" he asked.

"That," Hermione said, pointing at the ripped package on the ground. On it lay an opal necklace.

"Bring it t' the castle, but don' you dare touch it!" Hagrid said, before beginning a trot that could have outpaced a flying Thestral.

Harry reached down and gingerly grasped the necklace, using the package as insulation. He wrapped it up tightly and clenched it in his fist. "Let's go."

After ten minutes or more in the whirling snow, the group managed to get back inside the castle. They hurried to the infirmary, where Hagrid was waiting with Filch.

"She's alive. But she'll have t' go ter St Mungo's," said Hagrid.

"Where's the necklace?" Filch demanded.

"Here." Harry brandished the package. "Don't touch it."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Potter? Heh?" Filch glared at Harry before continuing. "I'll get this to Professor Snape straightaway for his inspection."

"Snape?" Harry asked. "Why Snape?"

"Because _Professor _Snape is the premier source of knowledge of the Dark Arts in this school, Potter." Filch shuffled off, muttering to himself.

Harry turned to Leanne, Katie's friend. "Where did she get that necklace?"

"Um, I... I think it was in the bathroom. She came back acting all funny. Distant and eyes kind of glazed. And she was holding that package."

"Harry, that sounds like she was under the Imperius Curse," Hermione observed.

Harry clenched his fists tightly. "This was Malfoy. I know it. I saw him sneaking into the Three Broomsticks before I went in. That would have given him time to go... hide in the bathroom."

Harry gained momentum as he spoke. "He waited in the bathroom for a student to enter. When Katie went in, he Imperiused her. Then he gave her the package and told her to take it to the castle... so she could..."

"Yes?" Hermione asked coolly.

"...give it to Dumbledore!" Harry finished triumphantly. "It makes sense! He wouldn't suspect a package given to him by Katie. He'd have opened it and touched the necklace."

"But Harry, according to your theory, Malfoy has been trying to kill Dumbledore. Katie isn't dead."

Leanne piped up. "Katie was wearing gloves when it happened... I think it only touched a tiny part of her hand."

"Yes!" Harry said. "Because it was such a small contact, the necklace wasn't able to kill her."

"And now," he continued, "I need to go find Malfoy."


	10. Chapter 9

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map from his trunk with Ron and Hermione's protests still ringing in his ears. "Harry, you're being stupid." "Please, Harry, wait for Dumbledore."

He was sick of waiting. He needed to find Malfoy and he needed to confront him. Why would he try to kill Dumbledore (again)? _I thought something was changing..._ Harry shook his head. No time to linger.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The Map bloomed on the parchment. Harry scanned the castle, but his eyes were drawn to one particular spot. _He's back there again. Why?_

"Mischief managed!" Harry set off at a jog towards the second floor.

Harry approached the wooden door to the bathroom. He steeled his nerves and pushed it open.

Just like the first time Harry found him here, Draco was hunched over the sink. This time, however, his sobs were unrestrained. He looked up into the mirror at the sound of the door closing behind Harry. He spun around and Harry saw that his face was a mask of terror.

"Harry! Oh, god... Harry. I don't know what to do." Harry wasn't sure whether he was shocked more by Malfoy's tone or the fact that he seemed to be begging Harry for help.

"Malfoy." Harry blocked out the other boy's sobs. "What did you do to Katie?"

"I don't know, Harry, please. I can't remember..."

Harry's rage flashed white hot, out of nowhere. "SHE NEARLY DIED! You almost killed her!" He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

Malfoy dropped to his knees. "Harry, please, you don't understand. I didn't mean–I wasn't–it wasn't me!"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" An image appeared in Harry's mind, of the Prince's book. He could see in the corner of one of the pages a small note: _Sectumsempra. For enemies._

Without thinking or hesitating, Harry brandished his wand. "Sectumsempra!"

Malfoy's face blanched and he suddenly became eerily quiet. Red slashes appeared on his chest where Harry's wand was pointing. Blood began to flow.

Malfoy collapsed onto the floor. The bathroom was silent except for Harry's deep, desperate breathing.

"Oh god. Oh god." Harry dropped his wand, fell to his knees next to Malfoy. _What do I do? _His mind blanked.

He lifted Malfoy's face, cradled his head in his arms. "What do I do?" he whispered.

The bathroom door banged open. Harry jumped and looked up. It was Snape.

Wordlessly, Snape pushed Harry aside. He began moving his wand back and forth across Malfoy's chest, murmuring the words to a countercurse. After a few minutes, the gashes seemed to stop bleeding.

Snape gently picked up the unconscious boy and, with a jerk of his head, wandlessly opened the door.

"Consider yourself extremely lucky that you are not being expelled with a broken wand, Potter. A curse such as this one is more than enough to warrant it."

Then he was gone.

Harry stared at his bloody hands. He thought about the way he had acted–lashing out in a blind rage, striking in hate and not justice. He was as bad as Malfoy.

He curled into a ball. He was worse than Malfoy. He couldn't even cry for his mistake. He couldn't even cry.

He was vaguely aware when, hours later, someone opened the door and gave a cry. He saw as though he were floating above himself a girl with curly brown hair–Hermione–leaning over him, asking him what was wrong.

He floated through the hallways, down to the infirmary. No. That wasn't right. A boy was carrying him. A boy with red hair. Ron.

Sleep.


	11. Chapter 10

Bright, golden sunlight poured into Harry's eyes. He squinted. _Where am I? _He put an arm up to block the sun. Now he recognized the sheets from the infirmary. His memory came flooding back.

He jolted upright and searched for Malfoy. He heard a soft laugh coming from the bed beside his. It was Malfoy.

"Potter, what did you do to yourself that made you sleep for two days?"

"Draco? You're alive?"

This time, Harry could cry.

Cry he did.

After a while, Harry heard Malfoy clearing his throat. "Yes, well, I'm glad you're glad I'm alive, but could you stop crying now? You're going to flood the infirmary and I don't think I'm in the right condition to swim."

Harry sniffled and wiped his face on his pillow. "I just... I dunno. How are you feeling?"

"Harry Potter, asking me how I'm feeling?" Malfoy asked incredulously. He took a hand and gave himself a conspicuous pinch.

"No, it appears I am, indeed, awake."

Harry gave him a serious look.

"I've been better. Still a little sore. I don't remember much, but they tell me you tried to curse me in the bathroom. I know better. I must have cursed myself so I didn't have to listen to you whimpering anymore after I defeated your feeble attempts to duel me."

Harry smiled. The sun was setting and the light that filtered through the windows gave the room a reddish tint. He could see Madam Pomfrey waving her wand at the candles to light them.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you say in one go," Harry responded.

"Oh, Merlin. Now I know I'm dreaming."

"Is it a nice dream?" Harry heard himself whisper.

Malfoy didn't answer. That was okay, because all that crying had exhausted Harry. He drifted back to sleep.

He heard rustling. He saw the moonlight splayed on the floor. Skin...

An arm wrapped around him. He was warm. He was safe.

He heard whimpering. Felt it in his mouth.

He heard murmuring. Felt it fall over him.

The morning sun creeped into the bed. Little by little, it turned the dimness of the dawn into the brilliance of the day. Harry woke slowly. When he opened his eyes, he saw another pair, steel grey, staring back at him.

Harry clenched his eyes shut. Why would there be someone else's face so close to his? He stretched his toes; ten more greeted his. He shifted his knees; another pair met his, kneecap to kneecap. He spread his fingers and found them splayed against a bandaged chest; he became aware of an arm wrapping over his shoulder and another supporting his waist.

He ventured to open one eye.

That other pair was still there, watching him.

"Um?" he said in a small voice.

"Hm?"

"How?"

He felt a shrug.

"Why?"

"You were whimpering in your sleep. I couldn't just let you have bad dreams, and besides, you were keeping me awake."

"Oh."

Harry glanced down as he became aware of another pressing concern. Yep. They were both under the sheet. Yep. They were both naked.

"I, um..." Harry started.

"Yes?" Malfoy wiggled his hips.

"_I really have to pee_." Harry wriggled out of bed and sprinted for the bathroom.

When he returned to his bed, he found Malfoy stretched out on his back, making no attempt to hide his morning affliction. Ignoring this as best he could (it was cold outside the sheets!) Harry climbed back into the bed.

"Draco, can we talk?" he asked.

Draco pouted. "Oh, but we can have so much fun doing other things..."

"But–" Harry was cut off by Draco's lips pressing against his.

_This is rather nice_, Harry thought. But then he pushed Draco away. "Wait!"

"Well?" Draco's lips curved expectantly, reddened by the kiss.

It was at this point that Harry's willpower gave in. Harry leaned in and Draco took it from there. Draco may have been more experienced, but Harry made up for it in enthusiasm. He could feel himself hardening as their kisses became deeper. He felt Malfoy's erection brush against his thigh.

Harry rolled on top of Malfoy, continuing the passionate snog. Their now-throbbing cocks pressed together and Harry could've started whimpering again. He straddled Draco's body to allow room for a hand.

He broke away from the kiss and whispered, "Can I?"

Draco's answer was a resounding "yes" before taking the other boy's lip between his teeth.

At first, Harry's hand explored Draco's prick, feeling its differences from his own, and its similarities. The soft skin sliding over a hard shaft; the fold pulling back to reveal the sensitive head.

Then the hand took both pricks and held them together as Harry began to thrust against the boy beneath him. Draco pulled his lips back from Harry's and gasped at the sensation. He began to thrust back, matching his pace to Harry's.

The thrusting grew faster and harder. Harry felt a moan on his tongue and wasn't sure if it was his or Malfoy's; it didn't matter.

Draco said something, or tried to say something into Harry's mouth.

"What?"

"I–said–going–to–cum," Malfoy repeated. With a grunt, he thrust one last time into Harry's hand and released his load onto his own stomach and Harry's.

This drove Harry past the point of no return. He thrust his engorged cock onto Malfoy's slippery abdomen and came with a muffled "mmph!"

Harry collapsed onto Malfoy's chest, too relaxed and euphoric from the release to care about the mixture of cum that covered the blond's torso.

After a minute, Draco gently rolled Harry off of his chest so that they lie facing each other on the narrow bed.

"I told you so."


	12. Chapter 11

After convincing the Slytherin to return to his own bed lest they be discovered by Madam Pomfrey–and noting that he walked shakily and gasped when the bandages on his chest shifted–Harry found that he felt well enough to get dressed and go down to the Great Hall for lunch. He had probably just been utterly fatigued and under altogether too much stress, for which it seemed sleep and orgasm were a wonderful remedy.

Malfoy seemed ready to drift back into a snooze when Harry left, but Harry assured him he'd be back later. He still needed to talk to the sleepy boy, perhaps even more now, after what had happened that morning.

One last thing, though... "What did you mean, 'wands are quite nice sometimes'?"

Malfoy smiled lazily and waved him away.

"Harry!" Hermione cried when she saw him sitting down at the table. "You're up!"

"How're you feelin', mate?" Ron asked.

"Loads better," Harry said. "I'm starving, though."

"I bet," said Ron, reaching over and taking second helpings of everything. "Two days without food is a long time."

Harry, who had been thinking of his morning romp when he said that, cleared his throat and simply nodded his agreement and began piling food on his own plate.

"Harry, what happened in that bathroom?" Hermione asked. "Malfoy woke up yesterday, but he said he couldn't remember anything at all. After Snape brought him to the hospital wing, we looked for you everywhere. It took us hours to find you. And when we did..."

Ron spoke up. "You were just lying there. No one could find any trace of a curse on you, but you didn't respond to us at all. Bloody terrifying."

Harry hesitated before speaking. "I'd rather not talk about it just now, actually."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder understandingly. "Okay, Harry."

Harry smiled at her and began the process of shoveling as much food into his mouth as he thought his stomach could handle–in other words, he was taking the Ron Weasley approach.

When he felt that he might burst if he took two more bites, Harry leaned back. "Have we got any classes this afternoon?"

"It's Tuesday, so we have Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said.

"Bugger." The last thing Harry wanted was to see Snape again so soon.

When they got to the classroom, however, Snape didn't even glance at Harry. He was doing what the Dursleys had done: pretending Harry didn't exist. As Snape taught the lesson, he failed to make eye contact with Harry even once, and when the class ended, he swept off without a word.

Hermione, observant as usual, remarked, "Snape didn't once glance at you, Harry."

"It's an improvement over his usual hyper-criticism," Harry replied. Hermione gave a nod in acknowledgment.

Later that evening, the three were sitting in the common room once again. Hermione was writing Ron's essay helping Ron write an essay. They were both rather engrossed, although Harry suspected Ron's interest stemmed primarily from Hermione's proximity. He seemed to spend more time watching Hermione than the parchment.

Harry decided to go talk to Malfoy while the other two were busy. He stood to leave and Hermione looked up. "Harry, where are you going?"

"Oh, erm... I'm still kind of tired. I'm going to bed," Harry lied. He didn't think Hermione believed him, but she didn't say anything. But now he had to go up to the boy's dormitory. Then he realised that he could grab his Invisibility Cloak and sneak out of Gryffindor. It was made even better by the fact that he could sneak into the infirmary without having to worry about anyone seeing him going to see Malfoy.

A few minutes later had him creeping quietly past Madam Pomfrey's office into the infirmary. He decided to have some fun. He sneaked up to the foot of Malfoy's bed–he seemed to be deep in thought, eyes glazed over.

"Draaaaacooooo," Harry whispered. "Draaaaacooooo..."

Malfoy's eyes widened dramatically when he heard the disembodied voice. He looked frantically for the source with a genuinely frightened look on his face.

_He's actually terrified_, Harry thought. He pulled the Cloak's hood back from his face and nearly took a step backward at Draco's reaction. In an instant, he went from cowering to radiating waves of hate.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he asked viciously.

"I... I'm sorry," Harry said. "I wasn't trying to scare you."

The angry visage softened slightly. "I don't know why it did. I think–I think it reminded me of Saturday."

He bit his lip. "Your disembodied voice brought back a trace of a memory... Like..." he bit his lip, "like someone was whispering my name. Telling me what to do. But I can't remember any of it."

Harry thought back to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Impostor Moody. When he had put the class under the Imperius Curse, one by one, it had been just like that: a disembodied voice and fuzzy memory.

"Draco... d'you think you might've been under the Imperius Curse?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't even remember Friday night. The last thing I remember..."

"What?"

"The last thing I remember is sending you the note," he finished.

"That means, if you were Imperiused, whoever did it had access inside Hogwarts."

That was a scary thought; Malfoy had a scarier one. "Harry, what if whoever cursed me tries to do it again? While I'm alone and asleep tonight?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think they would. You're almost too weak right now to be of much use."

"Of use? What do you mean?"

"Merlin. You really don't remember anything. When you were being controlled on Saturday, you put someone else under the Imperius Curse. Katie Bell. You gave her a cursed necklace and told her to take it to Dumbledore. That has to be why you were cursed in the first place."

"Oh." Malfoy's face became worried. The expression was genuine; Harry's gut told him so. That meant he hadn't been trying to kill Dumbledore in the first place.

"Harry, there's something I need to tell you."

The tone of his voice scared Harry. "You're not going to tell me you're a Death Eater, are you?"

"Don't be stupid, Potter." For a moment, the old Malfoy reared his ugly head. "You've seen my arms. I don't have the Mark."

"Oh, right," Harry said.

Malfoy started to speak again, but hesitated and bit his lip. "I don't have anyone else to talk to and I figured... well... It's my parents, Harry. He... You-Know-Who... has them–"

His voice cut off, thick with emotion. Tears of worry started to leak from his eyes and he angrily brushed them away.

Despite Malfoy's obvious distress, Harry was relieved. "I thought you were going to tell me you'd been trying to kill Dumbledore all along."

"Don't be–hic–stupid."

"But that time in the bathroom. You said..."

"Sarcasm, Potter." Malfoy bit back a sob.

If someone had told Harry a month earlier that a month from then, he'd be climbing into a hospital bed with Draco Malfoy to comfort him hours after having his first sexual encounter one bed over, Harry would have told that person they needed to go to the infirmary themselves and get checked out. But there he was, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder and resting his cheek on the blond's head as the latter began to sob into his chest.

After a while, the sobbing subsided. Harry wondered if Draco might have fallen asleep. He was content to sit there and enjoy the closeness.

"Stay with me tonight? Just in case?"

Harry smiled. "Okay."

Harry had to briefly hide under the Cloak while Madam Pomfrey came around with Draco's evening medication; after that, she retired to her quarters, which were presumably nearby, and left the pair undisturbed.

Draco decided, as per precedent, to see how much he could milk his physical (and emotional) state for.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You know what would make me feel better about lying in this bed all day?"

"What?"

Draco craned his neck up to whisper in Harry's ear. Then he drew his head back and bit his lip, looking up through his blond lashes at Harry's green eyes.

Harry gave a loud laugh, before stopping himself, lest he alert the nurse. "Are you kidding me?"

"Um... no?"

"You're going to have to make me feel a lot worse for you for that to happen."

"Well, it _would_ take my mind off You-Know-Who for a while." Even as he spoke, he could feel his swelling erection pressing into Harry's leg. He knew he had won when he saw the green eyes flick down and glance at the stirring sheets.

Harry pretended to be torn. He suspected that Malfoy was not convinced, but it was in the Slytherin's interest to play along.

"I suppose," Harry said finally. "But no mouth."

Draco pouted.

"...today," Harry finished.

That made Draco feel slightly better. What also made him feel better was tormenting Potter. "But I thought you weren't gay?"

Harry sighed. "Look, do you want me to toss you off or not?"

"Yes, please."

"Funny how you suddenly sprout good manners when you're getting sex."

"Either shut up or put your mouth to good use, Potter."

Harry pursed his lips. He slid down in the bed so that he was now resting against the left side of Malfoy's (still bandaged) chest. Slowly, with his right arm across the flat stomach, he pulled the sheets down until the other boy's fully engorged rod was exposed.

Unlike that morning, he now had time to admire Draco's body. It was even better than he had imagined that night in his bed. He inspected the erection before him. He could tell that it was slightly thicker than his own, but otherwise fairly similar. The foreskin was partially drawn back from the pinkish-purple glans underneath; he could see a drop of precum forming at the piss-hole. The shaft was creamy white and faintly spiderwebbed with veins.

His pubes were true to his hair colour, though slightly darker. Harry brushed them with his fingers and found that they were softer than his own coarse, dark ones. When he brushed his hand across the soft skin of the scrotum, which was sparsely dotted with hair, Malfoy coughed impatiently. "Get to it, will you?"

Harry gave him an insolent glare. Maintaining eye contact, he lowered his head to Draco's pink nipple. Slowly, he ran his tongue over it, feeling it harden under his attention and seeing the grey eyes watching him dilate in arousal.

Having taken his sweet time, he primly raised his fingers to the soft skin of Malfoy's shaft. He gently pulled down until the foreskin rolled back, completely exposing the shiny head. He felt the torso under him tense in anticipation when he leaned his head down, then heard a gasp when instead of a tongue, Malfoy felt a stream of cool air on his sensitive member.

"I thought you said no mouth," Draco moaned.

"I lied," Harry responded. But he brought his head back to Draco's chest. Making eye contact again, Harry replaced his tentative touch with a firm grasp. "Tell me how you like it."

"Lower down. Your hand." Harry's hand obeyed.

"Long, slow strokes." Draco's breath came in a hiss.

"Mmm. A bit less pressure. Oh. Yes. Mmm.

"Other hand–balls–gently–

"Faster now.

"Faster. Mmm.

"Faster. Oh. Fuck. Gonna cum–nngh–"

Draco's balls tightened under Harry's fingers; his shaft swelled ever so slightly. His eyelids closed, breaking eye contact as his jizz flew in pearly ropes onto his stomach.

"Ah..." he sighed with release.

He took a few deep, relaxing breaths.

"Potter, you're a filthy slut." He cracked a lid to look down at the green eyes that burned with lust. Then his gaze slid down to the erection straining against confining fabric. A small, wet dot in the fabric pinpointed the tip.

"Come up here."

Harry sat up and straddled Malfoy's legs. A pale hand found its way to his straining trousers. "Zipper."

Harry undid his fly and pulled down his underwear. His cock sprang free and began to throb.

"Tell me how you like it."

"Just–fucking–do it."

After just a few quick tugs, Harry arched his back and thrust into Malfoy's hand, coming with a final "fuck!"

He fell forward onto his hands and knees, bringing his face close to Draco's.

"Someone was excited."

"Nearly came in my pants when I felt your cum pulsing through your cock."

They shared a short kiss before they both drifted off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 12

"Harry."

"Nng."

"Harry."

"What."

"You should get under your Invisibility Cloak unless you want Madam Pomfrey to find us like this."

Harry blearily opened his eyes. It was morning. He could see the nurse's shadow dancing around her office as she prepared for the day.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"Ron and Hermione don't know where I am. They think I went to bed early last night when I came here."

"Better get back to your bed, then, and pretend that you were there the whole time."

Harry stretched and rose from the bed. He heard a snigger and realized that he still had his trousers and underwear pulled down. Hastily, he zipped himself up.

"Enjoy your walk of shame, Potter," Malfoy teased.

"Bugger off." Over and around the Cloak went.

"Wait. One more thing."

"What?"

"Come find me after you've eaten supper."

Harry wondered what he meant, "come find me," but saw Madam Pomfrey exiting her office. He hurried back to the dormitory, where he found Ron still sleeping.

Quietly, he changed clothes and went to breakfast. The day seemed to flow by in a blur of faces and sounds. As Harry left the Griffindor table that evening, he found himself once again making excuses to Ron and Hermione.

When he got to the infirmary, Draco wasn't there. Harry wasn't totally surprised. He took out the Marauder's Map and began scanning the castle for "Draco Malfoy."

He wasn't in Myrtle's bathroom. He wasn't in the Slytherin quarters. Finally, he spotted Draco in a seemingly empty stretch of corridor on the seventh floor. Harry looked at the surrounding architecture and realized he must be standing outside the Room of Requirement.

Harry set off through the castle, and before long he spotted Malfoy down the corridor. When the other boy saw him, however, he turned and vanished into the Room of Requirement.

"Odd," Harry muttered. He hurried forward and found the door into the room unlocked. He glanced behind him, then sneaked into the room.

The scene that met him seemed to be straight out of a romance novel (;D). High windows allowed the winter sun to pour down into the room; despite the copious quantities of glass, the room was quite warm due to the cheerily crackling fire set in a fireplace in the side of the room. In front of the hearth lie what appeared to be a bearskin rug. On the other side of the rug was a massive four-poster bed with rich green drapery, a solid headboard, and luxurious, white sheets.

"Bloody hell, Draco, this is..." he trailed off as he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.

"Oh."

The most that could be said of Draco's outfit was that it was there–barely. It showed off his thin, muscular frame and creamy, white skin. It also made the pink, puckered scars running across his chest all the more obvious.

"Oh my god," Harry said, reaching out to run a finger lightly across a scar. "Did I do that? I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Draco said, and he reached up to stroke Harry's forehead. "I like scars. They're a reminder of who we've been, what we've done."

"Care to slip into something more comfortable?"

Draco began slipping Harry's clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Finally, when Harry stood only in his underwear, he reached up, removed Harry's glasses, and dropped them carelessly onto the clothes as the pair's lips pressed together.

With their bare skin rubbing together and their underclothes representing two easily removed final barriers, the kiss quickly escalated. Mouths began to explore faces and necks as hands searched torsos and arses. Two erections quickly swelled to strain at the fabric separating them.

Draco pulled away, taking Harry's hand and leading him over to the bed and shoving him onto his back on the soft bedding. This time, it was Draco who climbed on top to straddle the other boy. He gently bit down on Harry's lower lip before trailing down towards his groin with kisses and licks. He impatiently ripped off the boxers keeping him from his prize.

"Hey! Those were good boxers," Harry protested.

Draco, face inches from Harry's rigid hard-on and taking care to let his warm breath fall on it, said, "I'm sorry. Would you like me to stop?"

"Um... no, please. I mean thanks. I mean–"

Harry cut off as a tongue began making its way up his shaft, stopping just before it reached the frenulum.

"I didn't think so."

Draco's tongue continued to explore Harry's groin, traveling up his prick and lapping at his balls. Eventually, he reached out a hand and, holding the stiff cock away from Harry's body, lowered his mouth over it.

"Mmph."

He went slowly, taking in an inch or two and withdrawing, then going a bit further. At last his nose was pressed against Harry's abdomen and he could feel the tip of his manhood brushing his throat. He pulled his head back and forth experimentally until he found the right angle.

Harry groaned again, reached a hand down, and buried it in the blond's hair. Draco kept bobbing his head up and down until Harry said, "Wait, stop. I don't want to come yet."

Malfoy pulled up with a wet sucking noise. Harry pushed himself up the bed until he was resting against the headboard on a pillow. "Come here."

Pulling off his underwear, Draco straddled Harry's torso with the other boy's arms resting on his thighs. Harry reached up and grabbed Malfoy's arse before pushing him forward, bringing his cock within reach of his mouth.

Harry wasted no time with his tongue, taking the engorged rod straight into his mouth. He worked his way down the shaft until he could go no further. He began the same bobbing motion the other boy had used.

Suddenly, Draco hissed. "Watch the teeth, Potter!"

Harry's response was to look up and hold eye contact with Draco as he continued to lick and suck.

Draco reached down and took a fistful of dark hair. He used it to hold Harry's head still. Slowly, he began to thrust into Harry's mouth.

Harry leaned back until his head was again resting against the headboard. Draco continued to fuck his mouth. He reached out with both hands and grabbed onto the woodwork to steady himself.

"Fuck, gonna come."

Harry pressed his hands into Draco's backside, making it clear he wanted his load in his mouth.

With a final grunt, Malfoy thrusted one last time and released into Harry's throat. Harry attempted to swallow it all, but there was too much at once and he coughed as some dribbled out the corner of his mouth. The Slytherin pulled out and he reached down to finish himself off, but Draco stopped him.

"What?" Harry asked.

Draco bent down to whisper into his ear.

"I want you to fuck me."

Harry coughed again. "What, now?"

A dramatic eyeroll was came in answer. "No, in a week. YES, NOW!"

Draco rolled over onto his back, head resting on a pillow, legs drawn up by his sides. "Fuck me."

Harry gulped. "Um, shouldn't we prepare you or something?"

"By all means. Go ahead."

Harry looked around for lube and some appeared on the bedside table. He grabbed the bottle and poured a generous amount, first onto the prostrate boy's puckered hole, then into his own palm. He slicked his own hand and began massaging the lube over Draco's ass.

Gently, he pressed one finger inside, sliding it back and forth several times before adding a second.

By this time, Draco's erection, which had deflated after his orgasm, began to perk up again. His eyes were closed in an expression of concentration and pleasure.

Harry continued with two fingers for a while, long enough for Draco's hard-on to start throbbing again. He decided to go for a third–his cock was at least that thick. Carefully, he pressed three fingers into Draco's now loosened hole. When Draco's body seemed to have accepted the thickness of three fingers, Harry was ready to replace those fingers with his prick, which was now slowly leaking precum in excitement.

He reached for the lube again, this time spreading an excessive amount over his cock. He rubbed some more onto Draco for good measure.

"Go slow," Draco whispered when he felt the tip of Harry's penis press into his entrance.

Harry obliged, hands gripping Draco's legs, gently pushing forward until he began to slip inside Draco's still tight hole. He pressed in little by little. Finally, he felt Draco's body pressing back against his thighs. He paused for a moment to allow Draco to become accustomed to his girth. Then, slowly, he pulled back and pressed in again.

He increased his speed gradually, marvelling at the smoothness, the warmth, the pressure of Draco. It took a good deal of willpower not to come right then, but he wanted it to last.

"How is it?" he asked.

"Brilliant," Draco breathed. "Just... shift down a little bit... there–oh!"

"Right there?"

Draco nodded fervently.

"Now harder. Faster. Fuck. Yes."

Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of his prick sliding in and out of Draco's tight hole, the feeling of his hips slamming into Draco's body, the gasps that responded to each thrust.

Draco, too, had his eyes shut. He moaned and gasped with Harry's pounding, feeling his thick shaft filling him, pressing into him, Harry's hands gripping his legs almost painfully. He felt a stirring deep inside of him; he was a moment's work away from coming again.

He reached down and wrapped a hand around his own manhood. "Gonna come, Harry. Fuck, Harry!"

His cum went flying as Harry briefly continued to pound into him. Then, moaning, "Fuck, Draco!" Harry slammed into Draco one last time, feeling his jizz spurt into Draco's arse. Harry's rapidly shrinking prick slipped out as the two boys collapsed into a sweaty, sticky pile.

"That was... that was..." Harry started.

"Brilliant. Wonderful. Amazing. Fantastic," Draco offered.

"Yes."

Harry could sense a pattern forming as he floated off to sleep, wrapped in Draco's arms.


	14. Chapter 13

Draco idly twirled a slender finger in Harry's dark hair as he waited for the other boy to wake up. He wondered if Harry always slept this much, or if it was only after he had sex. There was an easy way to find out, but somehow it seemed so much more appealing to be kept wondering if it meant more sex.

Harry began to move, but it was only to shift and momentarily press his cheek harder into Draco's chest before he relaxed and continued to slumber.

"Fucking tease," Draco murmured.

But he had known that already–or thought he did. It was difficult to read Potter sometimes. In the Prefect's Bathroom, it had seemed like he was tantalizing Draco on purpose, standing stark naked over him when he was in the Body Bind curse even as he threatened to break his nose.

The only good thing about being paralyzed was that you couldn't pop a boner. It didn't help when you had a special interest–fetish, even–in being dominated.

Draco sighed. Of course he, one of the most powerful and influential students of his year, would get off to the thought of being submissive. He made a mental note to suggest something to Potter later.

First, though, they'd need to talk. There was that matter that he had meant to bring up in the hospital. Then there was the fact that he and Harry had been enemies since first year, a relationship which had somehow been flipped upside down. What were they now? Fuck buddies? Boyfriends? Something else?

It was just so damn hard to have the restraint to talk instead of using his mouth for better other purposes.

Harry shifted again and Draco could see his dark lashes slowly open. He took a deep breath and stretched against Draco's body (pressing his morning wood against Draco's leg in the process). He looked up with his emerald eyes.

"You smell good." His voice was husky with sleep. He smiled. "Like Quidditch and sex."

Damn.

Riding on the high that comes from a mixture of a good night's sleep and a good-morning blowjob, Harry walked back to his dormitory. As he entered the Common Room, he was attacked by a brown blur.

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't been able to find you since supper last night! We looked everywhere! Really, Harry, you should tell us before you disappear like that," Hermione finished sternly, releasing him from the hug.

Harry resisted an urge to laugh. "Sorry, Hermione. It just slipped my mind."

"Yeah, Harry, you have to think about people besides yourself," Ron added.

Hermione gave him a fond smile before he continued.

"Hermione was driving us all up a wall worrying about you–ow! What was that for?"

She sighed. "Nothing, _Ronald_."

"Bloody hate when she calls me that," Ron muttered.

"Well, it looks like you two lovers got along perfectly while I was, em, missing," Harry said. "I'm going to breakfast. See you later."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as Ron stuttered, "L-lovers? What do you mean, lovers?"

Harry, back turned to the pair, smiled and went to go by his dormitory to change before going to breakfast. Behind him, he heard Hermione say, "Honestly, Ron, it was just a figure of speech. He didn't mean it literally..."

Later that day, when Harry was sitting at lunch, Ron ambled up with a worried look on his face.

"Look, mate, about what you said earlier... What did you mean, 'lovers'?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, everyone and Mrs Norris knows that you two are madly in love with each other. Everyone except the pair of you, that is."

Ron flushed crimson. "Oh yeah? And what gave everyone this idea?"

Harry set down his fork so he could count on his fingers. "Perhaps it was the way you stare at her when you don't think she's looking. Perhaps it's how you seem to spend every waking moment with one another. Perhaps it's how she helps you with your homework night after night despite the way she promises she'll never help you again. Maybe it's how she always sighs your name. '_Ronald...'_ And then there's the fact that it's totally obvious."

Ron was speechless for a moment. "All right, and why are you suddenly so concerned about it?"

"I just thought perhaps it was time you two, y'know, got on with it."

"It?" Ron's face was turning a sickly white with anxiety.

"I mean, unless you really want to die a virgin. That's quite all right, I suppose."

"Die a virgin... Wait. Look who's talking, here, Mr Chosen One. How about you worry about your own virginity."

"Long gone, mate." It was only a little exaggeration. Not really a lie.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "When? With who? Why didn't you tell me?"

"How about you worry about your own virginity," Harry quipped.

"No, really. Come on. You've gotta tell me."

Harry chewed his food carefully.

"Please. Come on." Ron's face was pleading.

Harry looked up and saw Hermione approaching. "Good luck, Ron."

Clapping his friend on the back, Harry strode off. He only needed to glance once to see that Ron's face had returned to its nervous pallor at Hermione's presence.

Harry was lying down in his four-poster bed. He was vaguely considering the prospect of coming out and what he'd come out as. Bisexual? Gay? Malfoy's boy toy?

Malfoy's boy toy... Was that what he was? They hadn't really discussed it. Come to think of it, they hadn't discussed much recently. Everything had been... rushed.

The door opened and Ron entered. He saw Harry and sat down on the foot of his bed.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you talk to her?"

"Of course not. Bloody terrifies me, doesn't she?"

"Ah."

There was a comfortable silence.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You know my uncle Bilius?"

"Not personally."

"Well, no, but... The thing is... He was all right, is what I'm trying to say."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. My grandmum sort of disowned him. He never exactly... That is, she always wanted grandchildren from him. It's easy to see why she lost hope when you look at his wife."

"What was wrong with his wife?"

"She didn't exist. He never wanted one."

Ron stood up. "Good night, Harry."

"G'night, Ron."

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room the next evening. Ron was off by himself somewhere–probably still eating in the Great Hall. Harry was deep in thought when Hermione spoke.

"Harry?" she said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Um... You've been kind of distant lately," she said.

Harry cleared his throat. _It's just that I've been getting extra close to Malfoy_. "Sorry about that, Hermione. I've been busy."

"I know you have. But you've always made time before."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was used to Hermione being direct, but he wasn't used to having to hide things from her.

"Anyways. D'you want to talk about Saturday now?"

Harry turned on the couch so he could look straight (lol geddit? cuz i'm goffick cuz he's not straight) at Hermione, who was sitting right next to him.

"Sure," he said.

"Well... All I know is that you went off to find Malfoy, who was taken to the hospital wing before we found you. What happened?"

"I left you guys with Katie. I went up to the dormitory to get the Map. I found Malfoy–he was in Myrtle's bathroom."

"The girl's bathroom on the second floor? Why would he go there?"

"I dunno. I think he liked to talk to Myrtle or something. But when I found him, he was..."

"What?"

"Sobbing. Terrified."

Harry took a deep breath; Hermione placed a comforting hand on his knee.

"But I was just–so–angry. It was like my rage was a furnace. It blinded me. I... I cursed him."

"Are you saying you're responsible for his trip to the infirmary?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't see... Harry, he was in bad shape when he came in. What curse did you use?"

Harry sighed. Hermione was going to be insufferable when she heard this. "_Sectumsempra_. Yes, I know you've never heard of it. That's because, well... It's from the Prince's book."

"Harry, what did I tell you about that book! I told you–"

"Hermione, please."

She clenched her jaw. "Fine. You used a dangerous curse on another student–a Sltherin, no less; that explains why Snape was ignoring you. But if you cursed Malfoy, how did you end up unresponsive?"

"Merlin. I don't know exactly. After I cast the curse, he just collapsed onto the floor. He was bleeding everywhere." Harry started to choke up. Just remembering it out loud was traumatic.

"Snape came in. I don't know how he found us. He stopped the bleeding, somehow, but the floor was stained with red. Snape left, carrying Malfoy. He was so pale. I thought–" Harry cut off. Tears were starting leak from his eyes.

"I thought I'd killed him, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured. She pulled him into a tight embrace and he tried to control his tears. She gently stroked his hair while he sniffled.

After a while, Hermione said, "I suppose he's all right now, don't you?"

Harry gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just... He was acting rather odd yesterday."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he spoke to mean, for one thing. For another, he didn't call me Mudblood."

"Oh."

"And... He asked me to give you this." Hermione pulled a small object from her bag. Harry looked closer. It was a moving silver statue. A dragon.

"I checked it to make sure it wasn't cursed. The only thing I found was the animating enchantment."

Harry picked it up and brought it closer to his face. It was intimately detailed, each scale carved individually. A quicksilver tongue flicked out occasionally from its mouth as its tail waved sinuously back and forth. Its eyes were green gems–emeralds, if Harry had to guess.

"Beautiful."

"It's certainly something. But why did he send it to you?"

Harry smiled into Hermione's shoulder. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He set the statue down on Hermione's leg and for a while they sat in silence, watching it crawl around.

Hermione started up again. "Harry."

"Yes, Hermione?"

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Erm... Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I'm shagging Draco Malfoy," Harry muttered very quietly.

"What?" Hermione said.

Harry sat up. "I said... I figure Ron's Uncle Bilius was a first-rate fellow."

Hermione flushed a delicate shade of pink, although she steadfastly ignored this. "Yes, I think you're right."

"It's funny, Ron was just talking about him last night."

"You don't say?"

"It was funny, how he just sort of started talking about his uncle he's barely mentioned before."

"You're right, that's quite odd."

Harry sighed and lowered his voice. "Look, Hermione. I know you think I'm a cocksucker."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Faggot, pouf, shirtlifter. Whatever you prefer. But the truth is, I don't really know for myself. So can you stop pressuring me?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. You've just been so removed recently. I was getting worried."

"You know, Hermione, I'm okay."

She smiled. "That's good to hear.

"That is good to hear."


	15. Chapter 14

Saturday morning yet again. Harry woke in good spirits, thanks to his supportive and accepting friends. But a vague sense of loneliness, like a phantom limb, put a dark cloud on the sunny horizon of his mood. It had only been two days since he had seen or talked to Draco, but somehow those two days seemed like a great many more. He wanted his boyfriend/lover/fuck buddy/whatever/Draco.

Judging by the sun's low level in the sky, Harry decided it was probably too early for breakfast. He pulled out the Marauder's Map and scanned the Slytherin quarters for Draco Malfoy. He quickly memorized the turns to get to Draco's bed from the door and put the Map away again.

A few minutes later, he was standing outside the entrance to the Slytherin Common Rooms feeling rather foolish. He didn't know the password and there was no way any Slytherin would help him get in.

Then Harry was struck by a whim. Salazar Slytherin had been a Parseltongue... so it might make sense that the door would open when spoken to in that language.

He concentrated on the door, closing his eyes and picturing a snake, making it vivid in his imagination. "_Open_," he said.

The passage opened.

There was no one on the other side. Furtively, Harry sneaked inside and hurried quietly towards Draco's room. Yes, Draco had an entire room to himself. Harry wondered if that was standard for Sixth Years, or if it was only for Prefects. He could check it out later on the Map.

The area seemed almost deserted. Harry saw no one. He arrived at what seemed to be an oaken door. That had to be it. He tentatively opened the door a bit and stuck his head in. Yep–there at the far side of the room was a familiar blond head lying on a pillow.

Harry closed the door behind him and stripped to his underpants next to the bed. He slipped under the covers behind Draco and pressed up against the warm body. The sleeping boy shifted slightly, accommodating Harry's presence. Slowly, he began to wake up.

When he finally opened his eyes and realized there was someone else in his bed, however, the results were not what Harry had been hoping for. Draco started violently and spun around in bed to face Harry, face ashen.

"Bloody fucking hell! Potter! What..." he gulped. "What are you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd surprise you before breakfast..." Harry said sheepishly.

"Well, you did that," he said. "Merlin's beard. I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

"Sorry."

Draco hesitated for a moment. "But it was a nice thought."

He smiled and Harry leaned forward to kiss his grinning lips. After a few seconds, Draco pulled away. "Wait. How did you get past the door? And how did you find my room?"

Harry grinned devilishly. "Oh, I have my ways."

"Haaaarrryyyyyyy..."

Harry sighed. "I used Parseltongue on the door. As for how I found your room, that's a secret."

Draco pouted. Harry was impassive.

"You're no fun."

"Fine, then. I'll just be on my way then." Harry started to slide out of the covers.

"Wait!" Draco wrapped a hand around Harry's wrist.

"Yes?"

Malfoy pulled Harry back so they were face-to-face on the bed. He sighed. "I guess... you're _sort of_ fun..."

Harry took that as a major concession. "I think I can work with 'sort of.'"

He kissed Draco again. This time, they were uninterrupted for a while. Then Draco pulled away again. "How good would you say your Parseltongue is?"

Harry was confused. "I dunno. Don't really have anyone to compare to, do I? Why?"

Draco glanced down and bit his lip, an odd gesture on the normally collected young Mr Malfoy. "Well... I think there's a snake in the sheets that needs taming."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you ever not horny?"

The Slytherin paused a thought for a moment. "No."

"Didn't think so." Harry reached a hand under the covers and slowly slid a hand up Draco's thigh. Sure enough, his serpent was already rock-hard. Harry gave it a couple of light strokes.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going–I mean, erm, do you think you can tame it?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

Harry quickly slipped out of his underwear and tossed them onto the rest of his clothes. He straddled Draco so their erections were pressing together and bent down to kiss him once again. Though their other encounters had been feverish, desperate even, this time felt different. He wanted to take his time.

Apparently, Draco had other thoughts. Just a few minutes later, he broke away again. "Goddammit, Harry. I give you a simple task and you can't even do that. You're going to give me blue balls if you don't make something happen soon."

Harry sat up. "And what are you going to do if I don't?

Draco hadn't thought that far ahead. "I will be very stern indeed."

"Right."

Harry felt a hand on his cock. Draco had decided to take matters into his own hands (or hand). Harry closed his eyes and allowed him to have at it until he was moaning and feeling dangerously close to orgasm.

Suddenly, the hand disappeared. Harry opened his eyes, surprised. His dick was throbbing and begging for attention. Malfoy, however, was laying with his arms crossed, looking coolly at Harry.

"You can't just stop!"

"Watch me."

"But.." Harry protested. The desperate need to cum had subsided, but he still felt a rising tension in his groin.

"Oh god. Is that what blue balls feels like?"

"Hm. Not so funny anymore, is it, Potter?"

"Please, Draco."

"Have you learned your lesson?"

Harry nodded.

"I didn't think so." Draco was unmoved. He began to pick at his fingernails.

Harry frowned. There was a simple way to solve this.

"Right. I'll be heading back to my dormitory so I can take care of this." He got up out of bed and walked over to his clothes.

"Wait!" Draco said once again. He clambered out of bed hastily, landing on his knees in front of Harry.

"Just... boss me around a little, okay?"

Harry's eyes widened. That's what he had wanted?

"Well, while you're on your knees..." He gave a little thrust.

Draco quickly reached up with one hand, brought Harry's hardness to his mouth, and set to work. Harry could've sworn his balls were going to explode when Draco looked up at him with his smoldering grey eyes.

Then Malfoy reached up and place Harry's hand on the top of his head. Harry gently (but not too gently) grabbed a fistful of blond hair and slowly began to thrust into Draco's mouth. Draco got the point and stopped moving his head; he put his hands on Harry's arse and pulled him in tighter. Briefly, his mouth completely engulfed Harry's cock before it hit the back of his throat and he began to cough.

Harry pulled out. "You okay?"

"Fine," Draco said hoarsely.

Harry pulled him to his feet. "Bed. On your back. Now."

Draco complied. Harry rummaged through his discarded robes until he found his wand. He conjured four strands of rope, which wound themselves around Draco's wrists and ankles and bound him to the bed.

"Um, Harry?"

Harry set his wand on the nightstand for future use and padded over to the bed and knelt between Draco's legs on the bed. "Shush."

He sensed that he had surprised the other boy, however, when he began to reciprocate the treatment he had just received. When Draco moaned, Harry let his erection slip out of his mouth. "Quiet."

Harry took him back into his mouth. Although he rather enjoyed hearing Draco's reactions to what he was doing, he enjoyed feeling him squirm and desperately attempt not to make noise even more. As his mouth worked, he brought a hand up and gently tugged at the skin, sliding his foreskin up and down.

"Harry, wait," Draco said in a tortured voice.

"What?"

"You're going to make me cum."

"Hm." Harry sat back and thought for a moment. He climbed up and sat on Draco's chest and grabbed his wand from the table. He released the bonds on his hands.

"Finger me."

"Sit up and lean forward."

Harry leaned forward.

"Stick out your arse."

Draco held up a finger to Harry's mouth. He sucked on it for a moment before Draco pulled it out and began to massage Harry's hole.

Harry wasn't satisfied. He raised his wand. "Accio lube!"

The nightstand rattled slightly before the bottom drawer opened a several bottles of lube flew out. Harry raised an eyebrow, but handed a bottle to Draco and said, "Be generous."

Draco poured a good amount onto his fingers. This time, it was fairly easy to slip a single finger inside. Harry "mmm"ed quietly and his manhood began to throb. After a few minutes, Draco had managed three fingers and Harry's cock was dripping a string of precum.

"Enough." Draco stopped. Harry tied his wrists again. He took the bottle of lubricant and poured some into his palm; reaching behind him, he slicked Draco's erection. Still straddling his body, he lowered himself onto the slippery cock. Even after the preparation, it was still a tight fit, but those three fingers were nothing compared the sensation of being filled he felt now.

He heard Draco moan softly when he had finally lowered himself completely. He paused for a moment and allowed his body to get accustomed to the feeling. Then, slowly at first but gaining speed, he slid up and down on his rod. When he felt Draco starting to thrust, he said, "Sit still."

He saw Draco bite back a protest. He could imagine how it would feel to lay back and be fucked. But Malfoy had wanted to be dominated, so this was how it was going to be. The string of precum from Harry's prick had turned into a steady stream from the pressure on his prostate. His body wanted desperately for him to climax–it would only take a couple tugs–but he wanted to feel Draco's orgasm first.

"Harry, please," Draco moaned. "Untie me. Let me fuck you."

"Shush." If he was getting that desperate, he must be getting close. Harry quickened his pace. His body slammed into Draco's with more and more force.

Draco didn't warn him, but Harry saw his orgasm coming anyways. His breath shortened; his hands clenched into fists; his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and concentration. Finally, he came with a long grunt; Harry could feel his cock swell inside him.

And Harry, still riding up and down, allowed himself to wrap a hand around his cock. He arched his back and came with a drawn-out exhalation, cum flying in ropes over Draco's chest and face. When the climax subsided, he rolled slowly onto his side next to Draco.

"Fuck," he said, eyes closed.

"Uh, Harry. Do you mind?"

He lazily opened one eye, then reached for his wand and vanished the ropes. Draco carefully reached up and wiped the jizz away from his eyes.

"Have I told you before that you're a dirty slut?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "Not nearly enough."

"You, Harry Potter, are a filthy, filthy whore."


	16. Chapter 15

The rest of the day was spent in bed–not idly, of course. The pair were utterly spent when they finally drifted off to sleep, snuggling for warmth and comfort.

It was Harry's turn to wake up first. His mind was foggy as he began to surface into consciousness, but sharpened when he heard whimpering. He opened his eyes and found Draco curled against his side, shifting restlessly and making noises of pain.

"Draco?" Harry gently shook him. "Draco. Wake up."

He woke with a gasp. Harry gently rubbed his back and waited for him to calm down.

"You okay?"

"No."

Harry stroked his hair softly. "What's wrong?"

Draco sighed. It was too early in the morning for this.

"You don't have to tell me. It's okay. I'm here."

He shook his head. "No, I need to talk about it. I tried telling you before. In the infirmary. About my parents. Voldemort is keeping them hostage."

"But I thought..." Harry paused. "I mean, isn't your dad a Death Eater."

"Yes. But he's worth more as a hostage now."

"Why?"

"Because..." Draco stopped. He could feel tears forming, but he cleared his throat and ignored them.

"Voldemort gave me a task. If I don't do it, he'll... kill them."

"Oh, Draco," Harry said. He pulled him tight against his body as Draco's tears started to flow.

"I think–it has to do with the necklace."

"What does?"

Draco curled closer to Harry. "Well... it was supposed to go to Dumbledore, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, really. That was just my guess. I needed an excuse to blame you."

Draco wiped angrily at his tears, to no avail. "I think you were right."

"Okay, but..."

"That's what he told me to do."

Harry froze. "What?"

"He told me to kill Dumbledore."

Harry sat up; Draco followed suit. "You told me you didn't remember anything about the necklace. I believed you."

"I didn't! I don't! But I told him–"

"You made it sound like you knew nothing about it."

"I'm sorry, Harry–"

"You've been trying to kill Dumbledore all year and you didn't think to tell me? Even when we..." Harry's face flamed.

"No, Harry, I didn't, I said–"

"I don't care." Harry stood up and began roughly putting his clothes on.

"Harry, please." Draco sat on the bed, tears flowing freely. "I didn't–"

"Shut up! I thought–I really thought you were being honest with me." Harry swallowed hard. "I trusted you."

"I didn't lie to you," Draco whispered.

Harry clenched his jaw and gave him a cold look. Without another word, he swept from the room and slammed the door behind him.

Draco hugged himself tightly and stared at the door, willing it to open up again. His tears silently traced lines down his cheeks.

"I said I wouldn't."


	17. Chapter 16

Harry was fortunate enough not to see anyone as he fled the Slytherin rooms, though he met a group of younger students a few paces outside the door. They stared at him as he walked past; he resisted the urge to run away when he heard them whispering behind him. He felt as though the expressionless mask he donned had sunk in, making his mind dark and fuzzy.

Later, he remembered shouting the password at the Fat Lady; he didn't remember utterly ignoring Ron and Hermione, or their questions and pleas. He remembered casting a Protection Charm and a Silencing Charm.

Thankfully, he didn't remember how he spent the rest of the day, though when he woke up the next morning, his swollen eyes and sore throat gave him a hint. As he sat up in bed, his head began to throb painfully, and he let out a groan of pain.

"Harry?" He heard Hermione's voice from outside his curtains.

"Hermione?" She flung open the curtains.

"You're awake."

She bit her lip. She clearly wanted to ask him what had happened, or crawl into his bed and comfort him–or both. Harry realized just how distant he had been lately; before, she wouldn't have hesitated. The fresh tears forming in his eyes reminded him of the previous day's events and he began to cry in earnest.

"Hermione," he said as he held out his arms to her. She didn't hesitate this time.

Draco wasn't really sure how long he stared at the door before someone thought to check on him. His heart began to race when he heard the knock at his door, but he was disappointed when he heard Pansy's voice. He ignored her and slumped back into his stupor. It wasn't until she opened the door that he arranged his features, steeled his voice, and snarled at her to get out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she said.

"I said get out," he repeated. She stared. He flew out of his bed, suddenly furious. "GET OUT!"

She backed out of the room quickly, slamming the door behind her.

He was alone.

Harry told Hermione everything, with her promise not to tell anyone. Over the next few weeks, Harry did his best not to think of Malfoy. Despite his attempts, he still felt miserable and lonely. He buried himself in his work and, even better, he began working alongside Dumbledore more and more often to solve the riddle of the Horcruxes.

Malfoy didn't try to talk to Harry, although the latter sometimes looked up at a meal and caught the tail end of a gaze that lingered too long. When they had to work together in Potions, they were absolutely silent and avoided eye contact.

One day, however, Draco arrived at class looking haggard and sleep-deprived. He moved sluggishly and his contributions to the potion he and Harry were brewing were sub-par. Harry became frustrated by the lack of help. Aided by his already short temper and bad mood, he snapped.

"Been out trying to kill the Headmaster, Malfoy?" he hissed in a low tone.

When he answered, it was without venom; not, however, because he didn't mean it. He truly seemed too tired to answer viciously. "Fuck off."

"You'll never succeed. Even Voldemort is afraid of Dumbledore. He knew you were going to fail; that's why he gave you this task." Harry gave a short, bitter laugh. "How pathetic."

Malfoy didn't answer.

The next morning, Harry received a parcel in the post. Hedwig dropped the letter in front of him. It held no return address nor signature. When he opened it, it was a single piece of parchment, blank but for what seemed to be a drawing on one side. It was four lines: nearly equal length, set in two parallel pairs towards the outside of the paper. The outside lines curved ever so gently while the inside lines remained nearly straight. The lines pointed with a gentle angle to one end of the paper, though the gaps between the outside and inside lines were only slightly smaller at this end than the other. It was lightly shaded inside the lines, as if to indicate depth.

Harry studied it all day. He asked Hermione and Ron repeatedly what they thought it was. Finally, Hermione snapped, "We don't know what it is Harry. Now please stop asking us!"

Harry sulked. No one seemed to notice and he realized he had probably been doing a lot of sulking recently. He stared at the drawing but nothing came to him.

It wasn't until that night that he realized what it was. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, elbows on his knees and staring at his palms. His gaze drifted downwards and he realized he had been staring at a similar sight all day.

The drawing was a pair of forearms.


	18. Chapter 17

Forearms. What did that mean? In his mind, Harry pictured Draco sitting in a hospital bed. He heard his voice. "Don't be stupid, Potter. You've seen my arms."

He took out the drawing. Forearms. Bare, blank, unblemished. Harry could remember the pale colour of their undersides, the softness of the skin.

Malfoy was trying to tell him something.

"I don't have the Mark," the remembered voice said.

Surely Voldemort would have branded Malfoy when he set him the task of killing Dumbledore. But he hadn't. Why not?

The question troubled Harry until another thought crept into his brain.

What if Malfoy hadn't accepted?

Harry looked for Malfoy at breakfast, but he was absent. It wasn't until supper that he showed up at a meal.

When he did, Harry shot furtive glances at him. He seemed far more tired and ragged than he had two days previous. He had dark rings around his eyes and twitched at sudden movements. Whatever he was up to, it was exhausting him utterly.

Harry decided he needed to talk to him. He watched Malfoy carefully and slipped out of the Great Hall when he appeared ready to leave. He followed the Slytherin until they were in an unoccupied hallway. Then he called, "Malfoy."

He started violently and spun around. He seemed unsteady on his feet and leaned against a wall. "Ha–Potter?"

"Are... are you okay?"

Malfoy waved a hand dismissively, but nearly tipped himself over. "Fine," he whispered.

Harry stepped closer in case he needed to catch the other boy. "Can we talk?"

"I did it, you know."

"Did what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Sent you that drawing."

"I know."

"Oh." He blinked several times and tried to wave away something that was invisible to Harry's eyes. Harry took a quick step forward and pinned Malfoy's arms above his head against the wall.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, eyes flicking to Harry's lips.

Harry glanced upward. It only took a second–he had already pushed the sleeves down to Malfoy's elbows.

"Just checking." When he released the arms, however, Malfoy was unprepared and fell face-first to the ground.

"Shit. Are you okay?" Malfoy moaned something into the ground; he seemed unharmed but too tired to get up.

Harry sighed. "D'you need help getting back to your room?"

He interpreted the silence and lack of uprightness as a yes. "Come on, then. Up you go."

Harry supported a good portion of Malfoy's weight on his shoulders and lead him down to the dungeons and into the Slytherin quarters. "Why are you so fucking tired, anyways?"

"Can't sleep."

"Why?"

Malfoy stopped in front of his door. "I don't want them to curse me again."

"Who?"

"Whoever cast the Imperius on me."

"If they haven't since then, I don't think they will now," Harry pointed out, but Malfoy was beyond logic.

"Please, Harry. Don't let them."

Harry eased Malfoy into the bed. "Okay."

Malfoy grabbed Harry's hand. "Don't leave."

Harry looked down at the pitiful state Malfoy was in. The least he could do was give him one night's rest. "I'll stay until you wake up."

Malfoy relaxed into the bed. "Thank you," he whispered as he fell asleep.

Harry found a chair in the corner and began his watch. Alone in the quiet room, thoughts drifted in and out of focus in his mind.

_Harry, this is ridiculous. You're aiding the enemy!_

_What if he really has been trying to kill Dumbledore all along?_

_He's so innocent in his sleep._

_Hermione's not going to be happy with my latest disappearance._

_Who designed this room? The colour scheme is wretchedly depressing._

_Look at the way the moonlight falls in his hair, on the soft skin of his neck..._

When Draco finally awoke, Harry decided to stay just a moment longer. He needed to know.

"Erm... Thanks. For staying," Malfoy said, clearly lucid enough to be feeling some of his old restraint.

"I could hardly have just left you lying in the hallway," Harry said, crossing the room to stand by the bed..

Malfoy was silent. Then, hesitantly, softly, even–vulnerably, "I'd like it if you stayed a little longer..."

Harry clenched his teeth at the unexpected welling of tears in his eyes. He sat next to Draco and stared at the wall. "Just tell me one thing."

He nodded his blond head and sought eye contact; Harry's eyes remained on the wall. Harry closed his eyes and dropped his voice to a murmur.

"What did you tell him?"

Malfoy took a sudden, deep breath. He whispered, "Do you know how long I waited for you to ask me that?"

"Just..." Harry tore his gaze from the stone and peered into Malfoy's earnest eyes. "Tell me what you told Voldemort."

Draco stared back at him, tears forming in his own eyes. He shook his head.

"I told him no."

Then they were kissing.

Kissing like they never planned to let go.

They both knew they would have to, someday. They accepted it.

And they kept holding on anyways.


End file.
